Demise
by hippiechick2112
Summary: Part four of "Her Second Chance", narrated by Colonel Michalovich. After D-Day, London gives the Heroes another serious mission: to destroy another way for an Axis Power to win the war.
1. June 6, 1944

**Her Second Chance: Demise**

**Note and Disclaimer:**** I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to ****Hogan's Heroes**** nor do I own any of the songs I have posted. I would like to thank those who have created this series and those who have written these great songs. However, the character I have created, Colonel Michalovich, belongs to me, so if you want to use her in any story, please email me with permission first.**

**This is part four of my story of the female spy Colonel Michalovich. There are three other parts previous, so please read them before you read this one. However, this story I'm finding to be very interesting and explaining some questions, in a way. One of the heroes, after so many others, has, through some meddling, given up the greatest thing a person could have – his life. Enjoy!**

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**Journal of Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich, U.S. Army: LC8547960  
****June 6, 1944 – D-Day Finally!  
****Hammelburg, Germany: Luftstalag 13, the Tunnels – 2105 Hours**

I can't believe it, I really can't! The Allied Forces have landed in Normandy, France early this morning and are fighting at the continent…in France! So, all six months of planning, looking over the Nazis' forces and destroying whatever we (me, Rob and his crew of four, Newkirk, Kinch, Carter and LeBeau) could get our hands on had not been for naught, for the battle that is now raging in the coast of Normandy, France. This means the end of the war is within sight! We could be rid of this hellhole called Stalag 13 soon enough!

I have not been able to write since New Year's, for it was too busy and the suspense for this day was almost _unbearable_. Our hard work paid off, though. It has been the usual bombing of railways, trains, ammo dumps, etc. that it all led up to this great day, the beginning of the end! And now, Rob has finished his insane plan of "making" Kommandant Klink Chief of Staff to our Hitler (also known as Kinch), asking for one colonel and not a general, that can "follow orders." The real Chief of Staff, General Scheider, has been assigned by Hitler (again, also known as Kinch) to be Kommandant of Stalag 13. Well, the real culprit in all of this, Scheider's wife Lilli, really made this happen and without her, there would not _be_ no working plans of making the German forces stay where they were.

I enjoyed Lilli's company and talked with her before she went early this morning, after the announcement of D-Day to our operation via the radio. We were the only women around the area, so it was a pleasure knowing someone of the same gender for once (I have only come to know few women, some of them friends, in my life). In truth, these conversations were different, as I am usually surrounded by men. I now, through our talks, understood how Lilli came into this marriage she was stuck in for three years. I knew about her anguish and loyalty caught between her husband and the Allied Forces. By the end of her stay here, I felt so alone and empty of a companion, for she truly shines as such. I hope to see her in England after the war.

I learned a lot of things during these discussions as well. I'll tell the truth. It was weird just letting Lilli go like that. I never realized how much I missed female company and it still stings me to think about Nancy and all those who have sacrificed themselves for me either by just standing by me and/or dying. As of last December, when Rob came back from the Gestapo alive, I mentally vowed to never let myself be totally and emotionally involved anymore. I love Rob, I truly do, but I cannot afford another breakdown resembling that of when he was arrested by the Gestapo. I have to learn to live without Rob, like he said I should. I went as far as not flirting and limited myself to small, personal moments. I know Rob understands, for he stopped too, at least, for a while. Lately, he's been aching for attention and so have I. This is for after the war, not in this serious operation. Lilli brought me out of that, and I am truly thankful.

Even so, it has been an exciting day and one that I wish I was a part of, much like the other soldiers here. I mentioned this to Rob as the lights were ordered out a few minutes ago. He replied, "But we were, Nikki. We really were a part of something." With a glimmer in his eyes, Rob added, "You have to give our Kommandant Klink some credit, too. He's mean, vicious and rotten through and through. He's also brutal, detestable and mean. Oh, wait a minute. I said that."

I laughed at him. I have not had a good laugh in a long time. It has been too apprehensive and tiring these past months.

~00~

I'm finding it strange that I am thinking about what I was taught when I was a teenager in Father's household tonight and it being 2145 hours, mind you. When I was sixteen, he had me introduced to the world and held a great party in our backyard in which I was dressed in tradition Old World Russian dress and was with a matchmaker (she deemed me worthless for marriage and I _laughed_ about that) who made me read the Old Testament (more about marriage and intercourse). Rob has _so_ many pictures of that day, for his family decided to take some from Ted's bedroom window. Outside his room, there was a small fire escape that faced our home and so, all of the brothers (Rob, Ted, Chris, Jimi and Jerry), including their parents, had a good giggle over the party and how many people were paying attention to me, or, in the matchmaker's case, saying how futile I am. I was bleeding _mad_ when I saw them, for Rob came over with them one day and while I was doing the laundry in the backyard, decided to post them all over the damned house while everyone laughed away at the living room table as they drank their tea in their tall glasses.

Father, Alexander, Paul and Nicholas thought they were funny and kept some of them, one of which has landed at the bottom of my footlocker for some reason, the one with me smiling faintly at Father who is trying to help me down from the table. I don't know how that landed there, for I reserve the bottom of my footlocker for all the countless memories and painful anguishes or for those memories that I wish to hide and never share. That certain memory is more embarrassing and inhumane to me (well, I am exaggerating a bit on _inhumane_) than anything. That particular memory I think as another small story in my life's journey and not a piece of anguish.

I even dedicated some poem I wrote after the embarrassing incident (the party I deemed horrendous, of course, not only because it was hot that day and cruel to begin with, just dressing me that way, but because it was all older _men_) to the matchmaker, which Father thought was so witty. He thought it was something to sing about and even set music to it for me to make this comical scheme work more ironically.

The matchmaker, by the way, was not amused by this dedication and left in a storm of fury a few days after the gathering, screaming and swearing in Russian that I "could have that disgraceful thing!" indicating Rob. She meant to insult him and my "virginity" at the time (I admit, I was not innocent), and in turn, I wrote a prose piece which was dubbed "Samson" by Father and Paul_. _It is also Father's second favorite song, after "Highwayman."

I remember the wonder bread line, for it had just come out on the consumer market and it was an amazing concept to me: sliced bread became a metaphor for something new, daring and revolutionary to me. It was the idea that maybe things are not as bad as they seem to be. It was a silly intention really.

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first  
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth  
I have to go, I have to go  
Your hair was long when we first met_

_Samson went back to bed  
With not much hair left on his head  
He ate a slice of wonder bread  
And went right back to bed  
And history books forgot about us  
And the Bible didn't mention us  
And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once_

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first  
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads  
But they're just old light  
Your hair was long when we first met_

_Samson came to my bed  
And told me that my hair was red  
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed  
Oh, I cut his hair myself one night  
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light  
And he told me that I'd done all right  
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light_

_Samson went back to bed  
With not much hair left on his head  
Ate a slice of wonder bread  
And went right back to bed  
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down  
We couldn't destroy a single one  
And history books forgot about us  
And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once_

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first_

I don't think that this would make my longing for Father any less deep and fierce, but it just reminds of all the good times I've had with him before he left for Russia. G-d, I miss him with the same intensity as Rob. It's because it's all the same concept to me, this feeling of _home_.

I haven't seen Father in almost ten years before Auschwitz and just reading his censured (and some uncensored from the Underground) letters make me feel as if he's right there and telling me everything will be all right and that he'll be there. However, I can't say that Stalag 13 is the same thing as _home_ though, although I can say that I am proud to serve with the men here. And maybe I can call that a piece of home.


	2. Calm Before the Storm

**June 8  
****Kantine/Mess Hall – 1200 Hours**

There hasn't been much going on lately. London and the Underground haven't been transmitting anything, so there hasn't been any planning. D-Day in still underway, so there has been a focus on that from the Krauts, who are panicking right now, especially Klink, who has found out the truth, minus the operation (with embarrassment). Therefore, for the past few days, we have been regular and normal prisoners of war, as if there is such thing. The men have been going to roll call on time, nobody has been watching the door and obviously, there hasn't been anybody down in the tunnels except for Kinch, who is still watching out for broadcasts and messages from London.

Then there was Newkirk. Last night, Rob caught him before he went off to Hammelburg, for he claims that he had a date with "a pretty bird." Rob let him go with a warning to never go out like that again. I never really heard Rob talk in a very serious and yet so threatening tones much like that before. I also had never known Rob for harsh disciplining, but even with him talking like that…it sent shivers down my back. His temper is almost as bad as mine.

Rob emphasized the biggest concern of all (and he was right about it): what if we were caught by the Gestapo again and have another female agent Newkirk's seeing that's on their side? What if someone was _caught_? What would Klink, or more importantly, the Gestapo do? Worse, what will Berlin do to _Klink_?

I also hated it that Rob made me stay in the tunnels while he was talking to Newkirk because I was in my nightgown. I only had wanted to go back to bed, for I just wanted to check out the noise in the tunnels – Rob wanted to come too – but when Rob and I saw Newkirk, I felt like smacking Newkirk in the face for all the fear he put in me. Newkirk was eying me while he was being disciplined (I most certainly wouldn't have minded otherwise if every man would just leave me alone). One vicious look from me solved the problem and created some dismay in already shameful and cunning Newkirk, for he stopped immediately.

Doesn't Newkirk even remember what happened the last _time_ our tunnel systems were perpetrated into? Granted, it was my nephew Jozef, but at the same time, he was on their side at the time!

**June 9  
****Outside the Cooler – 1217 Hours**

Rob has gone down into the tunnels. Kinch has just picked up a few massages from London. Earlier, there was a series of them about the Hollywood life in the U.S., one of which being Ingrid Bergman acting in a movie titled _Gaslight _and some other nonsense that Carter has been tearing up about (I personally could care less and wonder why some people will get upset over some such nonsense in people's personal lives). It's a bit ridiculous.

Carter was told the news by Rob, who said as we (me, Rob, Kinch and Carter) sat in the radio room, "Carter, brace yourself. I don't know how to put this, but…" And Rob went on to tell him everything Kinch got, and the response had been, comically, disgraceful.

"Nothing will e-ever be the s-same," Carter said tearfully as he went down the tunnels to develop some film this morning, as he took pictures. He has been getting better with the camera, but when he forgets the film, you want to just hit him in the head, which he did yesterday when he tried taking pictures of me and Rob talking and once, kissing (Rob was flirting, and knowing how I always break my promises, got caught in his sticky web until I hit him, playfully, for trying to catch me off-guard). The joke was on him and the others who sponsored this prank of course, because Rob caught Carter. When he angrily grabbed the camera and went to destroy the film, Rob found nothing. He got one of those headaches and was cradling his head when Carter quickly took the camera from him and ran back to the barracks before discipline could be enforced.

My main concern is: what he forgot about it for a mission?

Anyhow, Rob has been down in the tunnels talking to London. What they want this time remains a mystery to me until Rob comes back from the tunnels and gathered the clans in the barracks for a secret meeting of some sort that deals with the morale of this camp to the Krauts (it's been the usual lecture as of late, because the lectures on women are useless since they study me, Miss Saucy Tongue). Obviously, it is much more than that.

Moreover, I'm just happy that we're working with London and the units of the Underground again and that the Gestapo, especially Major Hochstetter, is gone for now. I mean, Hochstetter is still looking at evidence that incriminates me and Rob and the rest of the men in the bombing of Hozellenan's home, my mother's murder (except some of the Krauts think she's around and Hochstetter thinks she was murdered somehow, that's why he sometimes comes by and bothers us), the rocket base explosion and countless other little missions along the way, like all those times we bombed the factories, trucks, trains, bridges and anything our greedy little hands can get on. If only –

Oops, here comes LeBeau. Rob is calling a meeting in the barracks now ("Kommandant Hogan wants to lecture us on the behavior of the men here," LeBeau said) and he needs me there to moderate. Yeah, like Schultz is going to be fooled this time. After all, he is guarding our barracks. Plus, he "sees, knows and hears NO-TING!"

I'd better get going now before this meeting on the "men's behavior" starts. If only I knew what London wanted or what they need done, then maybe I could do something…?


	3. What Does the Message Mean?

**Later – Late Afternoon  
****The Barracks – 1740 Hours**

_Priority one until it is destroyed: oil refinery, heavily guarded in Dessau. Usual packages are there – use local 4 to reconnoiter the area tonight at 2030. Too hot to handle for birds; they have been dropping like flies. Fight back from crows is about evening-time D+7. Get the information about it and ship it off with package to be picked up with 4._

That was the coded message from London. All six of us (me, Rob, Kinch, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk) were down in the tunnels as Kinch read and _re-read_ the message from its code for it was almost unbelievable to me and the three other enlisted men that sat around Kinch. Rob appeared thoughtful, thinking about another outlandish idea. He had on that usual face that got my wheels rolling too, for I knew that he was mapping out another insane Colonel Hogan scheme.

Rob started to pace the small radio room. I knew this infuriated his men, for Newkirk asked, "Sir, what does the 'essage mean? Some of it is easy to decipher, but some isn't." I thought that Newkirk made a point, obvious as it was: some of it was a bit mysterious. We have the location and what they want destroyed (priority one) and to use Underground Unit 4 for the job and to meet them tonight at a meeting spot, at 2030 hours, which is too early for us to go anyway, but we can handle something. "Too hot to handle for the birds" means that our planes can't reach it without being shot down and that the major offensive date from the Krauts, in using this oil refinery, would be…_D+7_…and we need the information about it from the person we're supposed to ship back to England…but D+7 means something…

"What about D+7, Mad'm?" Carter asked me.

I spun to face Carter. Oops…I must have been thinking out loud. "I was just thinking about the message," I said, "and Newkirk's right. Some of this message makes a lot of sense, but that last part, D+7, worries, and even baffles me. Obviously, the seven represents a day because it indicates a time, but D…D…" I trialed out with thought, and then Rob suddenly stopped his pacing and faced us.

"That's it, Colonel!" Rob said. "D means D-Day, D+7 means seven days plus or _after_ D-Day, June 13. They want is to destroy the oil refinery in Dessau…" Rob pulled out a rolled-up map of Germany from the shelves on the wall behind him, went in the opposite direction and opened it on the table next to our radio. Rob searched the map for this mysterious city until he excitedly found it using the compass. "There! Dessau is towards the middle of Germany, in the east, about…thirty miles away from Hammelburg. The Underground must have an approximate location of the oil refinery."

Rob rolled the map back together and sighed, putting the map back where it was before on the shelves. He started to pace again, except he stopped when he reached the radio about the fifth or sixth time. Aware that we were all watching him, Rob continued. "We have to have somebody go meet with Unit 4's main agent and survey the area. If the Allied planes are being shot down so quickly, then the area must be secure and _loaded_. In that case, we need something _good_ in order to get through those gates."

"Colonel," Carter began, "I have some g-good ones in my supply if –"

"That's just gonna get us into deeper trouble, Andrew," Kinch interjected. Somebody _always_ has to remind Carter that this war can't _always_ be about his explosives. It can't be as easy as blowing up something and running off to be innocent prisoners of war. It's more complicated than that, sadly.

"Right," Rob said, "and we'd land ourselves in front of a firing squad. In any case, we need a few good diversions and a plan on how to destroy it because it's guarded very well. If we find some weakness in the Krauts' plans, then we can use it to our advantage. This could be stalling our troopers and can also be the offensive plans against us. If so, this could have been developing since the beginning of the war and we haven't really heard of it until now. We don't destroy it and then those plans for D-Day will go down the drain. Oil refineries can really finish off this war for everyone. And if those plans for D-Day and the offensive are destroyed and the Krauts start winning the war again –"

"Then we'd be in a bloody sticky wicket with the Krauts," Newkirk finished.

"And then we'd all be goners, Colonel Hogan," LeBeau added with some tinge of anger to his voice. He hates the Krauts more so than anybody else and nobody knows why. I sense that it has to do with the Nazis going something to him and/or his family.

"And that won't be the least of our worries," Rob said. "With the Krauts winning the war again, our operation could get tricky and those fighting can get into deeper trouble than we are in. With the latest weapons and the oil refinery in running order, they could be newer weapons from the Krauts and more of our boys getting killed because there is no way to defend the lines or will there be the incapability to. On our side, one hint of us sabotaging their war efforts or even another escape or prisoner switch noticed, Klink could be finished. Klink is finished and then we get a new kommandant who would be tougher and check us out more often. Then, our operation's found out and finished and so are we. Either that or they find the tunnel while they're digging and maybe, we'll find ourselves up against the wall or have a noose around our necks. And I think we are in total agreement that we want to go home at the end of the war."

There were nods all around the table. The men wanted to live out the war, although the operation puts them in danger every single day.

This cynical conversation, however, was starting to depress me. So, an oil refinery in Dessau has to be destroyed or else we're all doomed. How are we going to pull it all off though? "Colonel," I said with the most respect I could muster up (I'll tell you, it was hard calling Rob that sometimes for recently, I have been disenchanted with authority), "if the bombers could at least access it, then it must not be on a hill or even in a valley at least. The bombers could reach it then, but because of the added security they're shot down. So, how do you think _we'd_ get in just the same?"

I was more referring to if he had any plans yet or not. All the same, I thought Rob should have something that's getting his wheels going in his head, but alas, I was wrong this time. I was in for a surprise and when I somehow thought about it later, it was _then_ that I remembered how Rob likes to set up people when they ask questions such as those.

"Well, Colonel," Rob began, "since your wings aren't broken anymore, I suggest you go out and meet with the Underground tonight. Thanks for volunteering. We should have a diversion ready when you head out. I can talk Klink into anything. Kinch, contact Unit 4 and ask where exactly they want us to meet them or if they want our people to head straight to Dessau. Make sure to ask for Maeve, he'll know who we are."

"Right, Colonel," Kinch said as he swiveled back to the radio and started using a different frequency to contact Maeve.

I was, meanwhile, shocked as ever. _Volunteer for something like this?_ I really thought that Rob was out of his mind this time. "But, C-C-Colonel," I was stuttering like Carter, "what if I run into some danger on the way and not get to the contact?" _That_, in and out of itself, was a stupid question and there are such things as those. As for running into danger, it was always a good idea to have another come along.

At least Newkirk was on my side this time and not giving me the usual eye. "Aye, gov'nor, she's right. What if she ran into some danger?"

"Well, thanks for volunteering too, Newkirk," Rob said cheerfully. "I know you'd do a good job in watching the Colonel." Newkirk, of course, was just as flabbergasted as I was. The two of us on a mission together? Oh, good G-d, no!

LeBeau and Carter were, of course, laughing at us. Both patted Newkirk on the back and reassured him that everything will be ok. Meanwhile, I saw that Kinch relayed the message and in turn, wrote down another which was full of uncertainty to me. When he was finished, he ripped the paper off the board and handed the note to Rob (the code was deciphered already, so we didn't need the codebook). Rob was, of course, wrinkling his forehead in frustration and rubbing his temples. "_They_ reminded us about the package for us to pick up and transfer to London when we meet them at Dessau, codename Scarlett O'Hara. This one's loaded on information for the oil refinery, so with some work from Newkirk and the Colonel, we could get something working."

"So," Rob continued as he rubbed his forehead once more, "you both have a long journey to and from this paradise and I've got some developments to put into play." This, of course, meant me and Newkirk should get ready to go as they tried to think this unusual mission out. We were dismissed.

The five of us all stared at Rob as he moved away from the group and went towards the ladder. He started for the ladder to go back to the barracks when a voice was heard as the entranceway collapsed. Rob jumped back down and hid behind a table quickly, in case it was the Gestapo, but it was only one of our men from the barracks and not the Krauts, thank G-d. "Colonel," the man, Corporal Newmann (the last prisoners processed here, who is on our side), called, "new prisoner coming in! Looks like an officer! Krauts have some top security on this one. They won't let us see him!"

"Coming, Newmann," Rob called back as he headed back for the ladder. I heard the report about the officer and started for the ladder too, following Rob up the steps as I started to hear the usual talk behind me from the men. Words came through my ears, such as "losing his rocker" and "rest camp." The remaining comments aren't worth mentioning, for I already know Rob too well to know that he _isn't_ sane, but whacked.

Meanwhile, we need to see who we have this time and if we need to get this person back to England and get some prisoner exchange, if we can manage that too. If there is extra security on this officer, then we might have a harder time exchanging.

"Why do I have a feeling of impending disaster?" Rob asked aimlessly as we jumped back into the barracks. My neck wasn't prickling, so this was just Rob talking, I guessed.


	4. The Colonel Crittendon Disaster

Usually, this is a social hour, where the men are playing cards, reading letters and getting whatever they can before the sun sets and the lights are ordered out. Newkirk and I are suppose to be heading out soon, seeing and taking pictures of that oil refinery and getting our agent back here and out to England, for it is 1800 hours and a train leaves for Hammelburg half an hour from now, about 1835 hours. We are all packed up with our false identifications, train passes authorized by the German Government (also known as Kinch, one of the best forgers next to Newkirk) and nicer clothes, a camera hidden in a copy of Hitler's _Mein Kampf_ (just another thing to justify us as a married couple loyal to the Third Reich). Rob _made_ me accept the role of being Mrs. Monika Klelm, a simple housewife about thirty, so I almost protested as Newkirk laughed about being my husband.

I'll tell you this, though: Rob's premonition of "impending disaster" will be heeded every time from now on, for he seems to be right each and every time there is danger coming. I couldn't believe my eyes because the officer who came here _must be_ a sure joke from the Third Reich to us because we've been _so_ good and have not escaped from the Iron Eagle, Kommandant Klink. This is surely a ruse for this prisoner for she is _going_ to get the whole camp going. And I sure hope that Rob orders an all-out escape because this person is going to _drive_ us all up a wall! You wouldn't believe this. Rob and I have been outranked, and kicked out of the Colonel's quarters by all accounts, by none other than Group Captain (Colonel, in other words) Crittendon, the most incompetent colonel in the Allied forces. This is like, Colonel Klink except more absent-minded more and perilous, it's like…

Oh, G-d, let me explain how this hazardous waste has already plagued down our plans tonight. If nothing goes right, it'll be Crittendon's fault, indeed. What a sticky wicket!

Rob and I went to Colonel Klink's office, as per usual when there is a new prisoner and most _especially_ when a new officer needs to get back to England (it's usually the former, having them replaced by somebody else, much to Schultz's displeasure). Like Newmann said, it was an officer who is heavily guarded. If it was a general or a colonel was the question of the day, for nobody lower than that is escorted that greatly unless he/she were a spy or something. Even I was constantly guarded by the Gestapo and had a gun on my back at all times (Rob probably had the same problem, except not by the Gestapo, I can only hope). We found out, to our displeasure, that it was a colonel.

Rob had a good look at the person before he was escorted to Klink's office and he, all of a sudden, appeared disgusted. Before we could even move on to Klink's office, Rob stopped suddenly, after getting a good glare at the officer and put his hands to his forehead, as if he had one of those headaches again. He really acted like he had one.

"What's wrong now, Rob? Who is the officer? Did you see him?" I demanded, knowing by his actions that Rob knew the officer.

I was anxious to get on and move on to Klink's office, but Rob didn't want to hear it. "Rob, are you sick or something?" I asked. My irritation became concern too quickly but my neck, the indicator of all _real_ danger, wasn't bothering me. I wasn't sure if Rob was having an unexpected attack of something, so it was best to ask. It wasn't that he was sick, but that he was shocked with something, or I should say, _someone_.

"No," Rob said as he continued to massage his forehead, "but I'll give you a hint. He's a walking catastrophe and a threat to the morality of this camp –"

"Hogan, I say, jolly show! It's nice to see you again!" I couldn't believe my ears – the British accent, the way the Colonel said those words. It was like sometime so long ago, when Rob brought me back to the R.A.F. base during a leave in March 1942, when we both used to meet in London, in a time we both had nothing to do and no war to worry about at that moment. It sure sounded like it was none other than Colonel –

And all of a sudden, I too, had a headache. I couldn't believe my eyes, as I beheld the officer. Older than both me and Rob, with R.A.F. group captain's uniform with cap stood Colonel Crittendon. "I say, Hogan, who's that nice fellow over next to you? A soft colonel, but nonetheless, we could weld something out of him!"

That was Crittendon's first and _last_ mistake. All right, so what if I keep cutting my hair and hiding whatever's left in a cap? So _what_? And I'm _not_ soft. I'm actually better fitted than most of the men in this camp. I won the monthly race around the camp perimeter, every fifteenth of the month, for the last five months (usually, it's just a run to see what's outside the fence and what we could do about it). I am NOT soft!

Crittendon's comment will have its settling of scores. I removed my cap and let down some hair (it was going past my shoulders). I even had the audacity to say, "Colonel, are you sure that I'm a man? I didn't know the army allowed them to grow hair this long."

The _face_ that Crittendon gave me was _amazing_ and I wanted to laugh _so_ hard! Rob just shook his head at me in the midst of his headache and was trying to laugh (he managed a smile). Crittendon just stared at me, this time in desire (when will the men _ever_ learn?). I don't think he remembers me, although I don't think anybody could forget a nurse who shouted for the idiot to move his vehicle before the planes took off and he got killed or damaged government property.

Klink, who had just come out of his office, wrinkled his forehead in frustration as the guards at Crittendon, a moment before, dispersed. "Colonel Michalovich, is that the way you talk to your new senior officer?" Klink demanded, adjusting his monocle in the process.

Schultz, who was behind him at the doorway, laughed and said, "Herr Kommandant, Colonel CRITT-endon thought that Colonel Michalovich was a –"

"Oh, shut up!" Klink said, turning an accusing face at Schultz, who immediately stopped his laughter. _Jesus Christ, Klink's in a foul mood today. I would have thought that he'd be gloating to someone about this sudden change in prisoner command._

I, meanwhile, was acting like the little smartass I usually am and I bothered to turn to our beloved Kommandant Klink. I said, "Geez, Colonel Klink, you're getting better with your Russian. Are you really heading to the icicles and snow soon?"

Rob smiled again, I saw it, and Crittendon was his baffled self once more. Klink was un-amused, however, by my smart comment and I saw him flicker some fright in his eyes before saying, "Colonel, it'll be best if you shut _your_ mouth before you yourself head to a cold place – the cooler!"

I rolled my eyes in disrespect at him as Schultz started laughing at Klink again. Klink was, once more, yelling at his blubbering sergeant to shut up and an argument ensued between the two. It was then that I remembered that we had another problem other than Klink on our hands. In the middle of all this yelling between the useless German officer and the sort-of humane sergeant, Crittendon started in on his issues of the camp, turning to me and Rob to complain, as if we were customer service at Sears & Roebuck or something. "There is no parade or exercises here still. Colonel Hogan, is this a way to run the camp of prisoners?"

"No," I answered for Rob, "but when you have a female colonel in here, things do change. Men do stare at females a lot, especially when we're running out of uniform around the camp." I was being sarcastic, but I don't think that Crittendon got the joke or even the sarcasm in my voice.

"I say, they are more of you in the barracks?" Crittendon asked stupidly. From the tone of voice I heard, he also sounded a little hopeful. Some wishful thinking he has!

"No, but this one happens to be better than the pin-up girls we get every month from the Red Cross," Rob added on, his headache gone and his figurative thinking cap on. He looked more alert as his shock of seeing Crittendon disappeared. I think he was figuring out a way to get me and Newkirk out of here tonight since we all knew, from experiences in the past, that Crittendon is insane and will turn us all in to the Krauts no matter what happens.

In the meanwhile, our senseless Colonel Crittendon was confused. It was quite a comical scene then, when LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Kinch came upon the sight with headaches of their own except for Carter, who acted a little enthused, really. Newkirk was rubbing his eyes and asked, "Is it just me, or has this dusty and windy paradise blown us a mirage?"

"Oui," LeBeau moaned. "Why am I worried right now?"

"Well, step o-one in holding back worry is to calm down and breathe in and out," Carter said, clearly happy to see the Colonel, who, if I remember Rob saying, "trusted Carter" (which is a mistake for Carter, that much I've learned sometimes).

I almost laughed again, at Carter this time, especially as Kinch answered him, "I've panicked already. What's step two?" Newkirk then hit the back of Carter's head for his comment and LeBeau gave him a hideous stare. _There is no love lost there_, I thought.

"Yes, Carter, _enlighten_ us of this," Rob groaned, obviously irritated that this was happening and Carter was acting as if this walking disaster was _nothing_ and that _nothing was wrong_! On the other hand, our disastrous colonel stood there, confused further by the comments (I think it's more of the matter that he doesn't understand _us_). By looking back at me for reassurance then does he get blind! _So_, I thought,_ this is his weakness, like every other man – women_._ Great, what _other_ man doesn't have this disadvantage yet?_

"Colonel Crittendon," I said as sweet as I could through clenched teeth (I was still trying not to laugh), "I think the men are trying to make a few jokes."

"Hogan, I say a sense of humor is good in a place like this!" Crittendon said, patting Rob hard on the back (I think he was a little inspired that I'm here and was trying not to touch me). "Keep up the good work men! Hogan and Miss – umm - well, I'll give you a day to clean out your quarters, while I rally the men for some parade. Then, Hogan old boy, we'll get going on the escape tunnel." That last sentence Crittendon whispered and he was, of course, ordering that we dig an escape tunnel as part of his plans…of which, he has none in the empty head of his.

Crittendon continued, senselessly, anyhow. "Unless the Colonel here wishes to share quarters with me, I'll be expecting clean quarters and then a tunnel out of there. Cheery on, men, and umm, Miss!" With that sudden change in attitude, Crittendon finally left in the direction of Barracks 14…those poor old chaps!

The crew and I gathered around Rob, who was already deep in thought and very pissed off at what's happening already today. "The next time you say 'impending disaster' I'm taking your word for it," I said as soon as I knew Crittendon was out of earshot and down the rows of uniformed barracks.

"Don't be troubled about it right now," Rob replied back. "All I need is a little change in our plans. That's all we can worry about."

"What are we going to do Colonel Hogan? W-we can't just leave Colonel Crittendon hangin' like that," Carter said to everyone's disgust (even I was tired of listening to Carter talk enthusiastically of Crittendon).

The look on Rob's face told me that he had a plan ready now and that he got it just as Crittendon was talking to us. I knew that we had to get rid of that creep, but the question was _how_. Crittendon was harder to get rid of than Hochstetter!

"Well," Rob said as the hideous stares at Carter ceased because of a need to concentrate on our priorities, "we need Crittendon out of the way. He can be used as a distraction, since he already is one, so that we _don't_ walk into another catastrophe." Rob glared in the direction of Barracks 14 – the roughhouse of the camp – and saw that Crittendon was getting the men out for some exercises, much to their antipathy.

Rob went on anyway, cringing at what Crittendon was doing to his men. "Carter, you and LeBeau show Crittendon that tunnel we started to dig to the cooler and to Klink's office – that's Tunnel 29, the one that curves from Barracks 7 and 8. Make sure it takes a turn to ours. Tell him that we started it, but when the guards were doubled, we stopped for we knew no limits in those shiny machine guns. Also make sure to continue the tunnel from where it stopped and edge it so that it lands next to Klink's office, just outside it, and that it collapses while Crittendon's in there and that Klink or some guards see it. Tell Crittendon that he'll land outside the fence if he kept digging in that direction." Rob turned to our radioman. "Kinch, inform Maeve that we'll be late and that Desertstar will be meeting them this time along with a companion who's with us as a fellow prisoner of war."

"Right, Colonel," Kinch said just as LeBeau and Carter left to interrupt Crittendon in getting the men of Barracks 14 fit, as soon of them looked murderous that Crittendon was making them exercise – albeit not Colonel Hogan style – and telling them that their black marketing and horsing around was not good morale for the camp.

Kinch was leaving for the tunnels when Newkirk came up to Rob and asked, "So, gov'nor, 'onight's the night still?"

"Yes," Rob said with a sigh as he glared quickly at the horrified faces of the men of Barracks 14. "And all you have to do is keep the Colonel _safe_. There are to be no shortcuts or back-slack and if there's any danger, run back."

Rob's serious tone was responded with a "Yes, Sir" from Newkirk and a vicious look from me. I can keep myself protected, thanks! I didn't have to accept Newkirk (although it'll be nice to have someone with me and a second set of eyes looking for those Krauts) and I don't need anybody's protection. This is just to ensure some sort of safety and if something's up, then the other can reach back and relay a message about what went on.

By the way, the code we agreed to use in case of radioing back was to put "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness…" at the beginning and "In the course of human events…" at the end.

Oops, Rob signaled that Newkirk and I get ready to leave now, for it's almost roll call and the chaos that will come with it will ensure our escape to Dessau. We've all packed up already, we're dressed under our uniforms, the book is loaded with film and every piece of identification is on us. This shouldn't be a problem…


	5. Package Deals and an Oil Depot

**June 10  
****The Tunnels – 0110 Hours**

I'm so out of breath…and…I am…trembling to write, so my writing will be a little illegible for a while. This night has got to be one of the tensest and most panic-ridden nights I've ever been on during a mission and certainly one of the most chaotic, if I do say so myself. I do state this though: Colonel Crittendon does carry a punch, carrying hazardous events along the way. He _does_ make create a _terrific_ diversion. His inconspicuous part in the tunnels' collapse was marvelous and his four days in solitary confinement _and_ transfer back to Stalag 16 will just about make my night if I haven't found about what the Krauts are really doing.

Newkirk and I were about ready to head out of the tunnels by 1810 hours, which, of course, was about the time we have roll call and when Crittendon will be in the tunnels outside of Klink's office. Naturally, Carter and LeBeau helped him to dig (and quickly, might I add) because we were on a tight schedule. Crittendon didn't know the roll call schedule yet so it was a perfect distraction.

In the confusion that followed in discovering a prisoner was missing, Klink ordered the puzzled and edgy Schultz around and asked for his report. "I beg to pardon, Herr Kommandant, but a – umm – prisoner – _MIGHT_ be missing…" was making me laugh. If Rob hadn't popped me in the side as Klink was yelling at Schultz, I wouldn't have grabbed the gleefully happy Newkirk, who wanted to make a crack or two. We busted out through the tunnels and went out into the woods (via the emergency exit) _just_ before the dogs, and of course all of hell, were let loose.

Our disguises were under our regular uniforms (just normal civilian clothing due in Nazi Germany, really), so just as Newkirk and I headed out into the woods, we hear the imperious Iron Eagle Klink yell in pain as he, most likely, fell into the tunnels in front of his office where a bewildered Crittendon was. "Blimey, gov'ness, that must have been some adven'ure for old Klink! Crittendon must have been 'orse," Newkirk commented on the way into the woods.

The guards and dogs that followed us outside the fence were, to our advantage, suddenly called back to camp by Schultz, who was screaming in a temper tantrum on the top of his lungs because _nothing_ was going his way. Klink was probably in a sling, a prisoner who _was_ missing turned up in a tunnel outside the Kommandant's office and worse, the prisoners, dismissed without permission, were running around the camp laughing at the irony of all of this. _Perfect job, Rob. The perfect diversion is truly chaos_, I thought as Newkirk and I dodged the usual spotlights and the loose dogs that still roamed around outside, around a wide perimeter.

All and all, this was going to be a wonderful evening in getting the information on the oil refinery. The moon wasn't out tonight (a perfect camouflage) and Newkirk, who moved just as silently as I was along the beaten pathways to the train station, was being serious. He was, for once, acting mature. _And I hope this lasts_, I thought. Little did I know what will go wrong or what might happen that night.

Newkirk and I arrived at the train station in Hammelburg just in time, about 1835 hours. During our long, silent walk to the station, the clouds had been covering the clear and moonless, yet starry skies and it had given us the appearance of something yet to come in its darkness. It did give Newkirk, and especially me, a cause to shiver. "Gov'ness, doesn't it 'ive you the chills, more than a grave'ard?" he asked me under his breath as we boarded the train and gave up our tickets (fraud naturally, again all in thanks to Kinch).

The conductor gave us a vicious and suspicious stare as we headed for a compartment towards the back of the train (just in case we needed to jump, just as Rob suggested as we discussed the arrangements) and he followed us, friendly enough. But just as Newkirk and I opened the door to our assigned compartment up, the conductor nabbed me by the back of my collar (I was right behind Newkirk) and yanked me back into the hallway.

"Hey, what are you doing with my wife?" Newkirk asked perfectly in his best German accent to the conductor.

My neck was prickling. If this person was to hand me over to the Gestapo, and then to Hochstetter (who would know me in an instant because he heads the vicious pack of black and grey uniforms here), then we'd all be doomed. Then again, if Newkirk could get me out of this mess, then I'd be exultant.

Thank G-d, Newkirk got me out. "Sir, this woman is a wonder to the Third Reich. She knits clothes for the men at the Russian Front, those pitiable men, and even contributes to the war effort. Why, she even helps with causes close to the Führer! Here are our exact credentials," Newkirk handed the conductor our identification papers as he held me with the other hand. "So, please, let us go."

"Yes," I pleaded in my best German accent (I really was too nervous to speak) as the train conductor looked at our papers, "we're only going to Dessau to visit my sister. She's had a child. We haven't been blessed yet with any sons, as she has, but we're trying as hard with this war. The war is closer to my heart right now. So, please, let us be."

I tried talking as sweet as honey, and it worked. The conductor, as he ended his constant surveillance with our papers, let go of me and handed back our identification papers to a relieved Newkirk.

"I'm sorry to trouble such a loyal couple then," the conductor murmured with sincere regret as he headed in the other direction. "Have a safe journey."

Grabbing me back into the cubicle, Newkirk shut the sliding door and slid into his seat with a sigh, with me almost tripping over his sorry ass as I almost fell backwards. I righted myself and sat down across from Newkirk, looking out of the window and thinking.

I wasn't mad exactly, but if Newkirk hadn't been carefully watching his speech at the beginning, then he wouldn't have been saving me, in a perfect German accent that fooled everyone, even me. I looked to Newkirk and said, forgetting about my German, "Damn, thank you, Newkirk! _That_ was a close one."

"You're 'elcome, gov'ness," Newkirk answered softly at me as he took out a pack of sheer, delightful cigarettes and handed me one, knowing good and well I only smoke when I'm nervous (he might have known I was a little too jittery then). I took it, after calming down and feeling the prickling in my neck cease to exist, and accepted his light.

As I puffed away on a dream come true, Newkirk started talking again, watching from his seat the dark and shadowy scenery that moved as the train ambled on to our destination as he was talking. "You know, Monika – Nikki – that this ain't gonna be so bad. I mean, a lovely bird like you, sittin' here with me, on a mission to 'etter things. I have to ask you a question."

"What is it, Newkirk?" I continued to savor that small cigarette and was already thankful that I was handed this. These things are a nasty habit to break, and it's all Ted's fault that I got into these when I become depressed in my teen-ager years, but it works nonetheless. I just hope to get off them, after the war of course.

"Peter, please, Mad'm. Well, what were you applyin' when you said we were visitin' a sister in Dessau?"

I almost chucked the nearest thing at him (which happened to be my handbag, heavy with my gun and some explosives Carter insisted I have) when I heard the question. I almost screamed with my temper to boot, but kept my calm.

"Fine, _Peter_," I said with a sigh. "I wasn't applying anything, but a story to cover up why we're here. Don't be pushing your luck either. Just because we're hiding from the Gestapo and trying to get information about that doesn't mean we keep to the lack of formalities. Just stick with the names, like you have already insisted upon, and we'll be fine."

"Yes gov'ness," Newkirk answered me. He appeared to be grim for a moment and I thought for a minute that he won't pull a fast one when we're out. _Of course he'll _behave, I thought.

Then, I just remembered something I wanted to ask Newkirk in return. "Oh, and one more thing, Newkirk." His head perked up in my direction, indicating that he was in attention. "How did you know that I knitted?"

Newkirk smiled and laughed, tipping off an imaginary hat to me, in respect, in the process. I was curious though. How _did_ he know? I mean, I used to knit scarves and mittens for Father for winter because Maggie had taught me beforehand, but just Newkirk pulling that out of nowhere suddenly was remarkable.

"It's just a story, gov'ness," he answered through this light moment. "I didn't know other'ise. It's just like yours with the sister."

After this, we had a lengthy silence. Newkirk didn't even push any more issues further. For the rest of the fast journey, we smoked the remaining cigarettes in Newkirk's pocket and watched the towns go by. The last part of the journey was quiet and nobody even bothered us after the conductor did. The Gestapo in the next booth, however, made me nervous as they laughed about something strange and obviously, those they killed. My neck hurt every time I thought about them next to us.

~00~

Newkirk and I went off the train normally enough when we arrived in Dessau. We linked our arms together (the book/camera was in Newkirk's other arm). The next part of our destination was ahead, the meeting spot.

We headed out to the local bar, about half a mile from the train station and far into the town. That was where we were supposed to meet Maeve. Well, I should say Newkirk, for it is an all-males bar and the only women allowed in are the performers. I mean, I can fit right into their shoes right now, those poor girls. I still shudder to think what _I_ had to do for my country and do the same at a nighttime bar. I'm not proud that I have to do such and seduce those I didn't want to meet, but it is all part of war.

Although Newkirk and I had to separate for a few minutes because he was the only one allowed in the bar, he was hesitant in leaving me alone in the dark of night, outside of a bar in the middle of Nazi Germany and very vulnerable to the elements.

"Gov'ness, I can't leave ya 'ere," Newkirk whispered to me. The streets around us appeared to me empty, but we can never know with the Gestapo. The only noise that can penetrate this cloudy night was the loud music from the band that vibrated in my ears. It was so loud that it _hurt_.

"_Peter_," I said with a German accent, "I certainly want you to go in and get our friend so that we can have dinner at my sister's. I would like to get there soon." I tried to play the part of Newkirk's wife. That close call on the train still worked its way into my mind. All I thought about now was _if_ we were caught, what were we to do with the Gestapo, especially when Hochstetter catches wind of it?

Newkirk at least got the drift of my point and headed inside, pausing at the doorway to look at the girls. When he turned back to look at my face for permission, he saw anger painted on my face. I was hoping that he'd move on.

Newkirk went in holding his breath. I was hoping he'd ignore the girls for one night (I'm aware it's a hobby) and get going on this mission to the oil refinery. We need Maeve to guide us there, we need the information about what goes on in there and the security and get back to Stalag 13 before the next roll call or bedcheck, whichever comes first. I just hope that he comes out…

I was just standing outside the bar, waiting and waiting with worry. I knew it must have taken a while to find our agent in this crowd and noise, but I think Newkirk did all right. If the Gestapo suspected something at that moment, they made lousy timing confronting us for, after about ten minutes after glaring at me for permission to chase after the girls, Newkirk came out with a man. The mysterious person was about medium height. By the light, he appeared to have brown hair (I think it was streaked with some grey). I couldn't tell, for the lights kept changing colors and the screaming more delightful.

When Maeve spoke, he had a strong German accent, although I think he was acting it out to fool others. Either that or he's really German (I have to look it up with Kinch later). "Shall we head out?" he asked as Newkirk led him to me outside the bar's door.

I smiled weakly at his attempt to fool the Germans and followed him immediately for he headed out quickly from our gathering. And I do mean _quickly_. Newkirk, behind me, shrugged his shoulders at me as I turned for his reaction, and started to run after Maeve.

I think Maeve's more afraid of the Germans that he leads us up to be.

Maeve is indeed fast-paced, a quiet individual that never really likes to talk since suspicion could be aroused from a people brainwashed by a madman. He walked so sharply that Newkirk and I had a difficult time in following him. Indeed, he did get us to the woods beyond the city to Scarlett O'Hara and the oil refinery, obviously faster than I expected. The woods, which are about a mile out of town and a long walk from the bar had not Maeve scattered hastily, stood silent and forbidding, as if it dared us to move closer and enter. Newkirk and I actually _stopped_ in front of the entrance as Maeve crossed the threshold, from the mysterious darkness to the non-permissible unknown.

Maeve must have sensed we stopped. He said over his shoulder, "We have to keep moving. The Germans could have followed us out and we still have a package to pick up and send off." And still he kept going, with Newkirk and me trialing after him.

My neck was prickling, saying DANGER, but I didn't dare to stop for this mission depends on the Allies winning the war and keeping D-Day a success. Even if this kills me, I have to do it because this does mean the difference between staying a prisoner forever or being free to go home.

After huffing and puffing after Maeve, we finally reached a clearing with a downhill slope beyond us, about four miles away from the entrance of the forest. Although it was dark and I was not in the mood to fixate myself upon the scenery and what was around me, I did see a dark figure crouching down in the bushes about a few yards away from where we three were standing.

Maeve suddenly whistled loudly and said, "Where shall I go? What shall I do?" in his thick German accent. I stifled a giggle, for it was funny to hear a German talk about an American movie, _Gone with the Wind_.

Meanwhile, the figure in the bushes popped up and said cautious, "I don't give a damn." He sounded doubtful and not sure we were his carriers. The package was American and can say the line perfectly, just like Clark Gable (Carter would be amazed).

_This is going to work and no neck of mine can change the fact_, I thought, ignoring the stabbing pain in my neck again. Of course I had been wrong to ignore it every other time I did, but this time, who knows? The situation might be different and I might be heading happily back to camp and being as misplaced as I usually am. Right then though, we need that package out in the open and heading back to camp with me and Newkirk. _What information does he have, anyway?_

"Time may change me but I can't trace time," I said out of the blue, trying to get the package out to us and not be doubtful of who we are. Everybody around Headquarters knows most of my codes, each different in replies and responses (each and every one, so I'm bragged about by Rob), so if this package knows who I am and the codes I know, he'll never distrust who we are.

It was to my surprise when he raised his head and replied, "Changes are taking the pace I'm going through." He smiled and I could almost see that grin clearly in the dark, and then he called out, "Desertstar, is that you?" His voice was obviously youthful; he was young and sounded just as excited as boy on Christmas Day.

I was just about to go ahead when Maeve cut across in front of me. He said to our young package, "O'Hara, we need to check out the oil refinery, so come along." Maeve then turned on a flashlight, something we had to live without as we exited the town and got into the woods, and shined it upon the juvenile soldier.

Our package, meanwhile, came over and was smiling still, his red hair flaming and his dogtags shining. Through the small light emitted from the flashlight, I saw that his name from his dangerously dangling was really Patrick O'Hara, from Cork County, Ireland. His disguise of being a civilian was supposed to hide this, but as the lights shone on him O'Hara realized his mistake and hid them quickly.


	6. No Questions or Comments

Maeve had by, in the few minutes that passed since we found O'Hara in the clearing, turned off his flashlight and walked all the quicker to the oil refinery. As he walked, he called over his shoulder, to the panting Newkirk, O'Hara and me, that it was about a quarter of a mile away from the clearing. I was trying to catch my breath as Maeve went faster and faster to where we were to observe the refinery. The woods became denser and more eerie in feeling. My neck was still prickling as we moved towards our destination.

Thank G-d, it was all downhill. Sadly, it'll be a pain to move back uphill especially when the Krauts will be tailing us, if they happen to shine their searching lights on us.

Suddenly, Maeve stopped, his feet planted firmly upon the ground he halted on. The three of us behind him, already tired from all of that scurrying around, almost ran into him because we were trying to keep up. While I was the one who stopped the parade behind Maeve, Newkirk and O'Hara both stepped on the back of my shoes.

Silence prevailed immediately afterward, even as Maeve still wouldn't tell us why we stopped or where we were. The suspense was killing me and I was about to shove everyone aside and see where we were, hill or not, until Maeve said, "Beyond these trees is the hidden oil refinery. London was not able to bomb this place, for it is a hard and dangerous downhill slope and the security here is high. We cannot stay long. It is almost time for the eleven o'clock walk around the place."

Our confused looks had Maeve say, "The guards walk six miles all around the place to make sure it is secure. They don't get back here until two in the morning. They are so thorough with their work."

Maeve then motioned for Newkirk to go ahead, carefully, and take pictures of the place. "Don't move any closer than three paces after the clearing," Maeve warned Newkirk, "and stay low. You can still hear what I say about this place as you leave, just in case someone doesn't get back. O'Hara knows the place. He needs to get back to London as soon as possible." Newkirk nodded his head and headed, quietly, beyond the thick trees.

Maeve watched Newkirk cautiously walk his three paces and then turned back to me and O'Hara. Mostly, Maeve's talk was directed to me as O'Hara knew everything, and started his lecture of the oil refinery and a warning. "Colonel, there must be no questions after the end of this and no comments, for if the Germans discover us, then they must find me and not you. My voice must be the only one heard."

I nodded, letting Maeve tell me the information. "Now, London first discovered the refinery about three weeks before the scheduled D-Day attacks in Normandy, although rumors had been flying about that it had existed, especially after the explosion of the rocket base this past year. Pilots discovered the place when scouting for planes and have been very careful when seeing what it is. Bombs have been dropped, with little efficiency. Most have been shot down.

"This gave London the idea that the Germans have a place under high security and that is it imperative to destroy whatever it is. Until last week, we have had no idea what this place was. London asked my unit to investigate the location and place some information in their hands so they can pass it over to you. The investigation turned out to be a massacre for many men in my unit, who have lost their lives to the guards who look through this area for agents, spies and civilians who harvest the wildlife here.

"Now, what surviving agents have picked up was the way security is like. A general named Hozellenan used to run this place and it has been…guessed…that he was using this place for fuel for that rocket that you destroyed earlier last year. The Germans have found other ways to use his oil. This could spell disaster for us. If they have that oil in full use, they can use it for anything and _everything_ they can. It is a dangerous tool, and they know it, so it has been blocked from the outside world."

Maeve sighed, continuing. "Every guard has had a background check and sworn to secrecy. Any word of this going to the public can land in our hands; expect it is too late for that. Because of this, they have stepped up security. Every truck is inspected; every profile and paper is even checked and phone calls are always made."

_The Krauts went too far_. "The last group from the Underground who tried to get in with a truck of explosives," Maeve emphasized as he saw my face, "was shot after he was let in and his comrades in the back were tortured for information and then hung where the rocket used to stand, before it was destroyed. Now, the only person who could have gone in without paperwork is Hozellenan himself and even his wayward wife. They are in charge of this."

Maeve stopped, hearing an owl hoot. I urged him on and he obeyed me. "The only…matter, and excuse my English please, Colonel, it is very bad…is that they have no idea where his wife disappeared to after the explosion of his house. This we can use to our advantage. She was the one who ordered that guns be placed on the ground just in case Allied fliers came, and she was right. This is why our planes have been shot down.

"The guards, just before Hozellenan died, have been ordered to check this area about four times a day and to head around the refinery for a few miles. They are not to miss a spot and to shot anyone who wonders here, even civilians. In a way, this has been a forbidden forest to all who enter it."

Maeve was thoughtful for a few seconds, thinking back on some information. "At about eleven o'clock at night they head up here, then at eight in the morning, three in the afternoon and seven in the evening. There is _thousands_ of guards in there and not one of them a traitor to the German State. The Gestapo is even involved in this, for Hozellenan personally worked with the Gestapo. His wife was also a Gestapo colonel and in charge of a local group that cracked down on our units and killed any they found in an instant. In total, there are about one hundred thousand Gestapo agents and guards, mostly loyal civilians who can't achieve anything in the military, in there. There are also those who take care to see that every person working there, even the scientists of Hozellenan, stay true to the state. The scientists never leave, I hear, and are ordered to sleep, eat and work there day and night, constantly finding more ways to destroy the Allied Forces and helping to pack the oil into the trucks so that they can be shipped out."

All the while I was listening to Maeve's thick German accent and constant use of American slogans, I stood amazed. The Krauts have designed something of use that we need to destroy and what stood in their way was our constant attacking. _They really are paranoid about this_, I thought.

Maeve's strange request for no questions and comments before (during and after the lecture) was honored and even as he finished about the security and how the place worked. I was still silent with shock. I didn't know that Hozellenan worked on this oil refinery or that my mother was involved in much more than I anticipated (security and securing her interests, how her!). I knew that my stepfather was a scientist and that he designed weapons and worked with the Gestapo with Mother. But finding an oil refinery and working on new weapons and who knows what else is incredible.

A few short minutes later, Newkirk came back from his assignment of taking pictures. "Gov'ness, we better get goin'. The Krauts have Panzer divisions comin' in, about four of them. There are also some Krauts comin' this way."

I nodded for a job well done at Newkirk and said, "I'm sure London wants to hear more about what's being done there. And we need to get O'Hara back to London. So, yes, I'd think it a rather splendid idea we move."

Maeve dipped his head in agreement and pushed O'Hara in the other direction, towards the town of Dessau. I took it, from Maeve, that too many Kraut divisions mean trouble and we had _better_ get back to Rob safely before anyone finds us.

~00~

Newkirk told me, on the fast-paced way back to town and to the station, that he did get a _lot _of pictures because of the expansiveness of the place and that "if I had gotten closer, I would have had more." I smiled at him and noticed Maeve was way ahead of us again. So, I walked speedily to keep up with Maeve. He was about twenty feet ahead of us three soft soldiers and moving like lightning and farther away as the seconds ticked by. I wouldn't be surprised if he was nervous about those Krauts coming to inspect the secretive forests that they have come to call home.

I was finding it eerie and worse still, my neck was prickling worse, especially after we boarded the train.

Maeve and O'Hara had, of course, false identification papers when we had reached the train station (O'Hara's dogtags were well-hidden by then). They went into a different booth while Newkirk and I took the same one we had before, in the back of the train, across from another couple, this time an elderly pair obviously passionate about Hitler. I mean, it was _all_ they talked about, even complimenting the piece of garbage book of his we knew to be our camera. The elderly man wanted to read it out loud to us, but I told him that it was our only copy of the book and we treasured it always, even going as far as taking it with us everywhere and reading it to other people. The elderly woman smiled and said, "It's a good way to educate the masses."

In the following conversation, nodded every now and then and talked about how good Hitler was doing and how his words meant a lot to me (ha, ha). Newkirk stared out the window and was, I could tell, trying not to laugh at this masquerade, his smiles almost betraying us. However, I saw his face turn from hysterical to cold and distant. Indeed, he was trying to keep a face, too.

When the elderly man asked what was wrong with Newkirk and why he never talked, I replied the simplest barefaced lie in a whisper, my hand to one side of my mouth to keep it quiet: "Oh, my husband was at the Russian Front. He wasn't wounded, but he's very quiet about it. All he can talk about now is in defense of me and how excited he is about how the war is going. There is nothing more he talks about."

The answer was accepted by the elderly couple, who now asked questions about the Russian Front. Newkirk tried to ignore the questions at first as he played the part, but then, he said one word that set off the mood (no pun intended, either): "Cold." Newkirk even gave the couple another haunted stare and turned back to the window in order to demonstrate how "truthful" my lying was.

Afterward, to change the topic, the couple left him alone and talked to me about what I was doing here in the middle of the night. I explained to them the same lie I told the train conductor (he was nearby again) and they exclaimed how excited they were for me and how they wish me to be blessed with children as my sister was, especially with sons. _Am I the only woman who doesn't care what gender my children are?_

The same train conductor, who was up and about our booth, also had no problems with me and Newkirk this time and even greeted us as we boarded, asking about my sister. I stopped to the side, while Newkirk went ahead saying he'll save a seat for me quietly, and I discussed with him our late-night trip to and from Dessau. I explained what an enchanting town it was. I laughed about these short trips, all the while thinking about how late we were in getting back (it was 2411 hours, according to the elderly couple across from us, at the beginning of the journey) and how worried Rob probably is. I did manage to leave the train conductor happy and smiling, all the time wishing me happiness.

The journey was uneventful. It was when we got back to Hammelburg and away from the train station that our mission really turned deadly.


	7. Death Takes Another

It was no joyride for Newkirk, O'Hara and I when Maeve started moving without delay, more anxious that we head back to the tunnels so we can plan on getting rid of the refinery (Maeve and O'Hara knew the way back to the tree stump that held our tunnels, just in case we got lost). O'Hara, in all of his shy self (he was quiet on the excursion and never said much of a word after our introduction), was opening up and joked about Maeve's fast walking, saying, "He can outrun a train anytime." I saw that his Irish blue eyes twinkled and his face could light up as he smiled. I also noticed that he had some childish freckles left on his face and that he was younger than me, by a long shot. He appeared to be in his early twenties easily, maybe even in his late teen-aged years, like Jerry is now.

I was relieved, however, that this mission to and from the oil refinery was over and that the next step was sleep in a warm bunk and some food from LeBeau. I could tell, from O'Hara's thin checks, that he hasn't had much food in a few days. LeBeau will have a field day with him, I bet, and with his equally skinny body, the other prisoners might have leftovers and a feast to boot. _That_, I saw from Newkirk's face behind me, was going to make everyone smile. I knew Newkirk was thinking the same thing for he kept licking his lips and somehow, the male face calling for food registered on his face.

The forests of Hammelburg were quiet…too quiet for me. I knew something was going to happen and that something was immediate.

Maeve was still several paces ahead of us three (who had been thinking about comfort and safety) when he stopped and frantically turned his head left and right. I knew we were near the clearing, to the main road that led to town in one direction and to Stalag 13 in the other. We had to cross it and about a quarter of a mile, going in a big loop, was Stalag 13 and the tree stump. The road to Stalag 13 wound beside it.

As soon Newkirk, O'Hara and I saw Maeve stop dead center in the middle of the clearing, we ran to him, but Maeve turned back quickly to us and yelled, "Patrols!" before I heard shots being fired. Maeve was shot at several times.

Newkirk, O'Hara and I ducked immediately and rolled to the right, behind a boulder, to avoid detection. I thought, without a doubt, that they saw us and knew where we were. Luck was on our side, though.

Everything happened so quickly afterward and seemed to be a blur.

Newkirk, O'Hara and I heard yelling and many more shots firing our way. We all kept our heads ducked and crawled, after rolling out of the way behind the boulder, to the nearest bushes that would hide us completely. Bullets went past us everywhere we turned, so it was safer to keep low (nobody was hurt and I can thank anyone for that). We had to get out of there, though. It was for everyone's safety that we do.

Panting and frightened, I whispered to Newkirk, "Get O'Hara back to the tunnels. You know the other way back and around them. I'll be behind you." Newkirk was about to protest when I shot back (no pun intended), "Newkirk, there is no time. We don't need more lives lost tonight."

Newkirk understood quickly and grabbed O'Hara by the sleeve of his shirt and headed down the road, via the woods' path parallel to the road, towards Stalag 13, taking care to keep hidden in the forests and dodging bullets as well. I knew Newkirk was able to keep O'Hara out of trouble. He knows more paths in the woods than I do.

To me, this felt like the night I was captured. It was during a mission, there are patrols around and someone is dead. This night, though, wasn't a night for panicking and running, but was one for decisive planning and heading back to safety without getting injured or killed.

I knew that Carter had left explosives in my purse with reason and this was a good time to throw some to get a clean getaway. I unzipped my purse with haste and found two of them, timers already set to twenty seconds, a perfect time. _Good old Carter_, I thought as I pulled the pin to one of them, to start the countdown to the explosive, and threw in the direction of the gunfire. At the time it was suppose to explode, I heard the satisfying _boom_ and headed in the direction Newkirk and O'Hara went to, taking my gun out of the purse I flung over my shoulder and firing aimlessly in the patrols' direction as I fled through the woods. The Krauts had ceased firing by then and there was much more than shouting ("You idiots, there are more of them!") and I knew that was the time I should consider myself safe…and very lucky.

I ran, despite the ridiculous dress that I was forced to wear. In about five minutes, I had reached Stalag 13 and almost tripped over the tree stump. I tumbled with the latch as I lifted it, ducking and putting the latch down before the light before it hit me, and went down the ladder, almost falling down the steps of the ladder in the process.

I stumbled into the tunnels. As soon as I collapsed down the ladder, I saw Rob rushing at me. I was still standing (a miracle in and out of itself) and was holding onto that ladder for dear life. "What happened?" Rob demanded of me, but I couldn't answer him. I was out of breath and I _couldn't_ even get a word out because I was trying to catch it. I was halfway to hitting the floor, but I managed to remain standing there.

Behind Rob was Newkirk, safe and unhurt. "Hey, gov'ness, everyone's 'ere and safe," he said as he came up and led me with Rob trailing behind (he kept asking me what went on and if I was all right). Newkirk dragged me to the radio room where O'Hara, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter were waiting anxiously and seated me in the bunk Kinch usually used when he was spending the night waiting for a message.

I felt like vomiting. I never ran like that in a long time (not since my brothers, I believe). I drew my knees up and put my head in between them, I felt that sick – Nancy had taught me that once when she saw me running until I couldn't breathe – and waited for my head to come back into focus. The room was clamoring with the men talking and _still_ asking what was going on. LeBeau tried coming up to me and asking if I needed anything, but Rob stopped him. "Back away from the Colonel and that's an order. Give her some room to breathe," he said.

The conversation turned to the oil refinery finally. O'Hara and Newkirk had obviously told everyone everything they could about the place, but I think they left the parts about Hozellenan and Mother out on purpose. I tried to catch up with the talk and perked my ears when Newkirk did say how the place worked and how, in all possibility, the place was producing new weapons, before he tossed the camera to Carter for further development and to send to London. O'Hara told Rob about the Panzer Divisions the oil refinery had and how secure the place was. "The only person who could have come in without a spot check and firing team is General Hozellenan and his wife," O'Hara added, now adding intrigue to the situation.

"How many Panzer Divisions are we up against?" Rob asked. The fact about Mother and Hozellenan was left alone for the moment. I knew that he would use it later.

"There are four of them. Newkirk saw them," I croaked as I picked my head up from my knees.

Rob was surprised. Four Panzers mean that the Krauts mean business. "Geez, there must be something important in there is the Germans mean something," Carter said as he went into the dark room to drop off the film.

After trying to talk, I sat up straight in the bunk and accepted a cup of water from LeBeau, who could finally do something for me, although Rob stared at him angrily. The room had become silent suddenly. Rob, I saw as I surveyed the room again, was confused and then it hit me in an instant what he was confused about: someone was missing. Maeve was dead or possibly captured and being tortured by the Gestapo. I just remembered it.

"Where is Maeve?" Rob finally asked, and by then, Newkirk, O'Hara and I were ashamed to say it. We left him behind and it was betrayed by the faces us three made. Rob grasped its meaning at once.

"Kinch," Rob said, "get through to Unit 4 and tell them their leader is captured or possibly dead and that there is no way to know. See if they can find out his status via Hercules."

Kinch acknowledged his orders and went to work at the nearby radio. Rob, meanwhile, went in the direction of the ladder that led to the barracks. He went up it as the remaining people in the tunnels, myself included, stared into each others' faces and wondered what was to happen next.

And so it goes.


	8. Herr Direktor

**Later – Evening  
****2012 Hours – The Barracks**

This strange nightmare as just gotten worse and more complicated.

It was earlier this morning, at 0514 hours, that Kinch confirmed that Maeve is dead and that his body is being held by the Hammelburg Gestapo. His unit, who has had a guard in the local Gestapo headquarters for other purposes, codename Hercules (one of Major Hochstetter's personal aides, I believe), found him on the list of dead prisoners they have captured. The unit was not able to get his corpse, but they have confirmed his death nonetheless by Hercules. His body will probably be buried in a mass grave along with their other prisoners and mistreated and mutilated along the way because he is a ringleader in the Underground. I shudder to think about it and what the Germans do to their prisoners.

However, this mission is becoming more dangerous and it's because of me. I can say, it certainly does feel like the Auschwitz nightmare has trialed me back to Stalag 13. The Gestapo, the concentration camps…it seems to be all the same.

I mention this because the Shadow who had set me free just six months before has come here on a visit to the Stalags to inspect them and this place was on the list. I shake and tremble as I write this. I am so nervous and edgy. It seems that I come with ill-will and bad luck. I bring disaster with me everywhere I go.

It all started early this morning, about the time we get up for roll call. It was just a mere twenty minutes after Maeve's death was confirmed. It had been a solemn day already, with the announcement of Maeve's untimely and unfortunate death. By 0540 hours, all the prisoners getting dressed and ready for Schultz to come into these barracks and yell his usual screech of "Up, everybody up, rouse, rouse, rouse!" In this early morning the men were warming up their coffee and asking LeBeau about the after roll call breakfast meal already. Others who worked with us in the system were quiet for they too heard about the death of Maeve. They all knew this was a major blow to the Underground, for, after Tiger, Maeve was a motivator and the creator of many Underground units. He headed many of them as well and an inspiration, almost like a morale booster to those who unselfishly worked against the Nazis. Now, Maeve had given up the greatest sacrifice a man could ever give to his cause – his life.

Rob was up before I was (I dozed off sometime after writing last), and when I entered upon the gloomy main room of the barracks, Rob was drinking coffee and, what appeared to me, reassuring the men, in whispers, who had gathered around him. He stopped whispering to them as soon as he saw me, and motioned that I sit with him and the others, waiting for the usual routine of counting valuable men and keeping an idiotic kommandant's record of "no escapes."

Someone, most likely LeBeau, handed me a cup of steaming hot coffee as soon as I took a seat across from Rob. I took a small sip. The grinded nuts had just arrived in our scarce Red Cross packages four days ago and they still tasted bitter and bland. I took another sip and grimaced. _We need some sugar and cream with this coffee_ was my first thought. The second was when I took note of the continuing sober note around the barracks. I stayed with the mood of the room – depressed and discouraged – and nodded my head when a few said a morning greeting.

I was just as fault for Maeve's death, and I knew that I should have stayed closer to him so that I could protect him instead of the other way around. He should not have been walking so fast and saving us. _Or was that the point?_ Rob would have said that there was nothing more I could do and that it was better that one life was taken and not the four it was supposed to the night before. I, however, know better and say that it doesn't matter the life and person and his/her rank: it is a _life_ and all are precious. Rob, in all of his humanity and kindness, would have said it as a commander. As a human being, I know he would have been devastated.

Silence still stood in the barracks. Everybody was just doing their usual morning routines of shaving, dressing and combing their hair. Nobody was teasing me like every other morning (the Miss Saucy Tongue bit, as well as the pranks, has died down in recent days because of how serious everything has gotten). It was almost a relief to me, despite the situation at hand. It was calm and serene (I was revering it) until, around fifteen minutes later in this commonsensical stillness, we heard a car coming into the compound and Schultz yelling outside. "Herr Direktor, we had No i-DEA you were COM-ing here…" and so on and so forth we heard Schultz yell.

Klink even came out, probably getting dressed in the process of running out the door and maybe even adjusting his monocle piece. In an excited voice, Klink rambled on. "Ah, Herr Direktor, Heil Hitler! It is a pleasure to see you at this very hour and so early…"

It was strange how nobody moved to open the windows a crack to see who it is that came or even migrated to Rob's quarters so we can probably listen to them chattering in Klink's office. What caught me off guard, however, was who the person was. I have heard his voice before and have many times before. When I racked my brain as to who this person was, I almost fainted with fear.

"Heil Hitler! Kommandant Klink, what a pleasure to see you here on this inspection tour of the camps. Herr Höss, I think, will be proud of what this camp has achieved without killing anyone of _great_ importance…" I froze when I remembered that _voice_ and what he meant by killing people "of great importance."

I dropped my coffee cup, creating the first loud noise this morning. Every man in the room turned from what they were doing, be it shaving, dressing, whatever, and stared at me. I wasn't embarrassed in the very least. I was more in terror of what will happen to us that I didn't hear anyone asking me any questions on why I dropped my coffee.

"Oh, how many days will you be staying here, Herr Liebehenschel?" I heard Klink ask. I was oblivious to all other noise. I even wasn't aware of what the men were now asking me but what was _outside_ of these barracks, just a few yards from where I was sitting.

"Colonel Klink, however long it takes me to inspect and report back to Herr Himmler, I will do it. Let me inspect these barracks. The prisoners should be up and working by now." That was the Shadow's answer.

For all I care, he could stay here long enough to spoil our plans to destroy the oil refinery in Dessau or even take over this camp, just as the Gestapo did. Maybe he's recruiting prisoners for the camp. Who knows? I knew that Klink said something of a protest, but was silenced into submission by the Shadow with a few words. I didn't even keep track of time. I knew that he'd be here in the barracks soon and I need to be ready and not looking weak.

I broke myself from my trance and stared back at every man that gawked at me in their own worry, even Rob. I smiled faintly at them all and got up from my seat, grabbing a cloth from the dirty laundry basket by the door and cleaning up the coffee I spilled on the floor. Then I picked up the tin cup and put it in the sink, knowing that anything that revealed my fear would turn deadly. I was as calm as a cucumber and never faltered in my composure. I was ready for this creep and whatever surprises he had up his sleeve this time, except I don't know _what_ his plans are this time.

I was done with cleaning the floor by the time the inspection party came to Barracks 2. Schultz was the first to come in, opening the door quickly and yelling, "ACHTUNG!"

All of the prisoners, whatever they were doing, stood in attention until Klink came in with the Shadow and said, "At ease, Gentlemen." All the men then went into formation in the back of the barracks, according to rank and army, and stood in attention with their backs straight. Rob and I, meanwhile, stood off to the side as usual and watched the Shadow and Klink inspect the men.

Rob, however much of a military man he is, gave me a side glance that said, "What the hell is _he_ doing here now?" I certainly didn't know, but I was sure as hell going to find out before he killed anybody here.

I watched the Shadow as he inspected the men in our barracks. He smiled at the misery of the demoralized men (even he noticed our despair), laughed at the way we lived compared to _whom_ he commands and even frowned at the African-American soldiers of the barracks, spitting at their boots at every one of them, _each time_. I was revolted and wanted to beat him senseless, especially when he came to Kinch and hit him in the face with his white gloves, dropping them in disgust to the floor as he did as if touching the skin of such a race could contaminate him. Rob saw this on my face and out his hand in front of me to stop my uncontrolled actions, but the Shadow, who turned around to face us, saw this and laughed at me and my angry face.

"So, the reckless one is more loyal to her fellow man than to her country," the Shadow said, still laughing at me and Rob's attempts to stop me from moving. Ignoring Klink's protests to move on to the next barracks, he continued anyway. "Colonel Hogan, let her go, she'll vent her anger out somehow. Herr Höss was correct in letting her work in the factory. At least she kept her place and submitted her will."

_He_ laughed again and headed out the door when I spoke back spitefully. "It is to each their own, Herr Liebehenschel. I am humane to who I serve with and you just command to kill those who are different from your damned Aryan Race." I knew I overstepped my boundaries by being this bold, but never had I gotten an answer such as his. I knew he was surprised I spoke his name out-loud, for I knew fear was installed in the hearts of his prisoners so they never spoke his name. I was intrepid and rash to say one of my greatest fears out-loud.

The Shadow turned back to me from the doorway and stared at me for a few seconds before speaking darkly to me in German. "Like mother, like daughter, Fräulein Michalovich. She was just as bold and adventurous as you are. She left us, before disappearing, a history of tempers and fierce loyalties that have ended with her leaving so abruptly last year into Switzerland. Everyone remember her and Frederick with such fondness. She was just as loyal to Hitler as you are to these pieces of garbage."

The Shadow indicated the men to his right. He then had the _nerve_ to walk up to me from the doorway. _What is he doing?_ I am thinking before he came to me, pushing Rob aside rudely. Rob, I saw, managed to stay on his feet and landed softly enough on Carter's bunk next to the tunnel entrance, but was staring in horror at the Shadow's hand. I knew he wanted to warn me ahead of time, but knew that it was too late to say anything.

The next I knew something sharp crossed my forehead causing a pool of blood to spill from my head. I staggered a little, never daring to wipe anything from my face or move at _all_. _This isn't a knife. I would have seen the blade…it could be a knife…what is it?_ The Shadow smiled, I saw it through my pain, and started to talk to me again, this time in German. "You see, Colonel Michalovich, I am concerned for the outcasts of this country and those who show loyalty to those I hate. And those who protect these people deserve a worse Fate." Then, some hand gesture to a guard. In German: "Kill her."

Two guards grabbed me suddenly (which might explain why Rob was shoved aside so rudely beforehand), Schultz and the Luftwaffe guards holding back the crowds of prisoners as I was led out the barracks' door. The surge of men was successfully pushed back and Rob was grabbed by some S.S. man of the Shadow's and put into his quarters, Kinch put in front of the door (Schultz might have put him there as I saw him lead Kinch there as he held back the crowds).

It was one of the last sights I remember before this amazing thing happened. Put into the dirt in front of the door before all of the prisoners, the guards had me in the position for execution, kneeling and where I would be an easy shot. _I guess this is what happens to those who are loyal to the men the Shadow hates_, I thought very sarcastically as the unmentionable person came up from behind me and clicked metal, putting a cold object to my head. Rolling my eyes in mock disrespect and not at all afraid of Death this time, I stared up at the sky and waited for this end, another one that might come. I didn't even know what I was thinking, it most certainly felt like Life didn't matter anymore. It was like Nancy and I were at Auschwitz again and surviving was just enough even when you were hurt. Life and Death were one and the same.

The gun clicked again, once, twice, thrice…and then there was nothing more. I felt nothing but another passing moment in my life. I was spared once more.

The Shadow swore profusely, throwing a tantrum because his gun was not working, and grabbed the guards', screaming more when it, too, did not bother to work.

I didn't bother to look at them all (my eyes remained skyward) and it was a surprise to me that I was kicked by the Shadow. I watched him soon afterward walk away with his guards, Klink and his blue-uniformed followers coming out of the barracks and asking if hem the Shadow, needed to see his quarters. The prisoners were behind me in the barracks still, all around, in astonishment that I survived.

I was in a daze and couldn't believe my luck this time. My attitude changed pretty quickly. _I survived? I can't believe it, no, why then…?_ My surprise was genuine even as I got up, brushed the dirt off of my uniform and walked back into the main room of the barracks. It felt as if nothing had happened and indeed, it hadn't.

Everyone in the barracks even saw me wake up from this lurid dream and suddenly, was shouting their worrisome profanity, questions and protests as I sat down serenely enough. I saw Kinch, at the door, turn around to Rob's quarters and knock on the door. Rob came out immediately and walked over to me quickly, almost knocking over Kinch in the process.

Through all this yelling, Rob shouted at his men, "Fellows, scram and let me talk to the Colonel alone!" I was suddenly embarrassed and looked down. The men, meanwhile, had then quieted themselves down and headed in opposite directions, either outside or on the other side of the barracks. Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau remained and I knew that Rob wanted them around. He did motion for them to come closer. I knew that Rob wanted to talk about _how_ to get O'Hara back to London, _how_ to get this creep out of here and _how_, most importantly, to get that oil refinery destroyed.

Rob asked a question before getting down to business. "Where's Wilson?" he asked with aggravation, rubbing his forehead too. "I wanted him here for this. I ordered him in here some time ago."

One of the men of our barracks, Sergeant Morrison (with his riding crop, carried almost everywhere he goes), who seemed to come out of nowhere, whispered in Kinch's ear as a German sentry passed by the door, and then ran off to close the door for security, leaving it ajar to watch out for anyone. He didn't care disobey an order from Rob but instead passed it on to another.

"He was put into the cooler for two weeks," Kinch recited quietly. "It was because that _person_ sent him there. Morrison just mentioned that in Barracks 19, the men said that Wilson back-talked when he was insulted about what he did and passed it on. Wilson is also up for a transfer to another camp is he's not careful."

I sighed. I guess it was my turn to take care of Wilson this time.

Rob, who took over his cap and appeared to be thinking, startled me with his next inquiries. "But," he said afterward wringing his cap, "the questions remain: how do we get rid of this guy? And what are we up against?"

Rob turned towards me and the others followed suit. I was so scared about my previous encounter with the Shadow now that all I could say was "A monster." I couldn't say anything more for those two words summed up who the Shadow was and they saw: how he just hit me in the forehead with something sharp and tried to kill me. I could still close my eyes and see the horror the children had on their faces and how their little lives were blown out like a candle's flame.

"Is there any w-way to get around him without killing him, Colonel Hogan?" Carter started.

"No, Carter. With this person around, we have trouble," Rob replied. "He's also a camp kommandant from another part of Germany and inspecting camps. Why now? Why not _after_ we get the oil refinery?"

"Are you implying that he might be working on this and suspecting something here?" LeBeau asked.

"Probably," I murmured fearfully, interjecting before Rob could speak. I rubbed my forehead, aware that the blood was finally slowing down and clotting. "It wouldn't be a surprise if he did. I mean, different parts of the Nazi services interact with each other. Look at our local Gestapo man Hochstetter. He likes to come here a lot on some occasions. And what about Hozellenan? He was a scientist in his spare time and he worked with the Gestapo. He was, after all, their general."

I paused. "Camp kommandants in _Poland_, though, would have a hard time working here in Germany, especially when they're ordering the deaths of thousands of people daily, and then interacting on some daily basis on the development of weapons in Germany. It wouldn't make any sense." By the time I realized what I said, I shut up, mousy as I was when Rob asked what we were up against, and listened to the others argue.

"So we can eliminate our favorite Kraut, Liebehenschel, out of this," Rob said, "and call this a daily occurrence in the workings of the camp systems for now. He might just be paying a random visit to Klink. Now, I'm betting this guy has this place rigged in case a prisoner escapes and has the guards all trigger-happy."

"Except for Schultz," I said, still frightened, but not of Schultz, of course.

"Yes, and you know where we can get some information from?" Rob asked us in a general consensus.


	9. Bribing Schultz

It was about 1500 hours before Rob and I snuck out of the barracks, loaded with apple strudel (LeBeau) and chocolate bars (Red Cross packages). Rob had to make a collection of candy bars from the men because we were in low supply and what we got was five (one plain chocolate, two raisin, and two with nuts) which might not be able to fancy Schultz into giving us anything, hence the apple strudel LeBeau made from the last of the supplies we received from town from Schultz himself. The apples were soft but it still created a delicious aroma around the barracks. The men of Barracks 14 even stopped their dealings to ask if LeBeau was making more strudel.

Schultz was, of course, guarding Klink's quarters which was being used by the Shadow for whatever time he was staying here in our little paradise (Klink was probably going to be there, but sleeping on the couch). Rob and I came upon him walking back and forth and murmuring to himself. So, we just stood there quietly as Schultz was oblivious to us until about the fourth time he turned around to face us. _Then_ he noticed Rob and I were standing there.

Schultz smelled the strudel I was holding in my hands, but sadly, he remembered his job of guarding the Shadow. Taking up his gun, Schultz yelled, "Who GOES there?"

"It's only Laurel and Hardy, Schultz," Rob joked with his usual impish smile and twinkle in his eyes.

"Ha ha, jolly joker," Schultz said putting down his gun on the ground. "What is it YOU want, Colonel Hogan? I'm supposed to be guarding the Kommandant's quarters and –"

Schultz stopped his ranting mid-sentence and remembered that there was chocolate and strudel to be had. He walked over to me, for I had the most tempting treat, and watched as I opened the lid to the dish slowly with my right hand and waved the lid around so that he could get a whiff of the aroma. Schultz smiled at me and staggered over close, stopping in front of me and then taking his usual portions from the plate.

In between his eating, after he ate to most of his heart's content, I said to Schultz, "I just wanna ask you a few questions, Schultz."

"ANY-thing – for the little colonel," he said in his mouthfuls of strudel.

"Why is there all this security for this particular camp kommandant?" I asked indicating the building near us.

"Mr. BIG Shot Klink wanted to SHOW off the camp – and WHY…killing prisoners – isn't – right at all."

"Is Klink concerned about his record again?" was my next question.

"YES," Schultz said after his finished chewing the last of the apple strudel, whispering, "And shhh – there might be a promotion in for Mr. Big SHOT in there. Herr Direktor Liebehenschel is looking IN-to the camp, so PLEASE behave. Tell the…men that – too."

"All right then, Schultz," Rob said waving his side of the treats as soon as Schultz was done with the strudel. "So this is just for showing off and not for a real inspection of the other stalags?"

Schultz wouldn't be tempted by the chocolate. Already, he has said enough to me and he might get in trouble for telling why the Shadow was here. So, our guard just shrugged his shoulders and went back towards Klink's quarters, picking up his gun off of the ground as he went back. So, it was time for Plan B.

I nodded off to Rob. "How would he know?" I said to Rob. "Schultz knows nothing anyway, remember? We might as well leave." I shut the lid on the empty dish and motioned that Rob follow me back to the barracks empty-handed of information. Rob then linked arms with me after a few yards from the building.

Plan B worked, though. Before long we heard Schultz yell after us. "Wait, wait, Colonel Hogan, I know something!" Rob turned around and saw the blundering sergeant trail after us so out the chocolate bars went from Rob's pocket and in they went, like a vacuum, to Schultz's mouth. As soon as he was done, Schultz explained what we needed and this time it was the truth.

In a whisper, Schultz said, as he leaned towards us, "Herr Direktor Liebehenschel came here to see if there was anything wrong with the little colonel here." Schultz meant me, of course. "Mr. BIG Shot was saying how WELL he's handling her but Herr Direktor Liebehenschel suspects her of _spying_. He's hiding here to see if it's TRUE." Schultz leaned back straight and asked, "ANY-thing else?"

"No thanks, Schultz," I said. I was shocked. The Shadow suspects me of spying still and wants to stay here to see if he's right and to see if Klink's record is as he brags it to be. It's another game he's playing with me, a cat and mouse game: sure, do whatever you like but if I catch you doing it before you succeed and then you'll be dead before dawn at the firing squad. _Even if I do succeed in helping destroy the oil refinery and he never catches me in the act, I know he'll try to take something away from me and find an excuse to do it too_.

I was silently going paranoid and my mind raced. I promised myself that I wouldn't be emotionally attached anymore, but feelings deep inside of me were coming back up. _He could kill one of the men. Wait a second, he knows about Rob. What if he kills Rob? WHAT IF he killed ROB?_

Schultz was gone and back to work before long and Rob was by my side. "Nikki?" Rob was right behind me as I stood there and thought about what the Shadow could do to break me in. I knew that he had to catch me in the act of sabotage before he could kill me, and according to German laws, he has the _right_ to kill those who are destroying the state (some random person could be targeted too).

"Nikki, what's wrong?" Rob was persistent. He poked me in the ribs.

All I could do was turn to back Rob, but I noticed that, beyond us, a curtain from Klink's quarters moved ever so _slightly_. _He _was watching us.

"Nothing, it's nothing at all, Rob. I need to check on Wilson in the cooler." I said some excuse as I shook my head and headed to the cooler alone with the dish minus the strudel. Rob didn't even follow me as I argued with the guard on duty at the cooler.


	10. A Plan is Made

**June 12  
****The Colonel's Quarters – 2122 Hours**

I don't know _why_ I'm so nervous right now. Sure, we have to finish off the oil refinery and Rob has an idea on how to get in there and destroy it. We have about another day to get this done and already, I'm up later than normal and biting my nails and demanding too many cigarettes from Newkirk. I think I've been through at least five cigarettes today, I'm too tense. It feels like the night I had to free Rob, when Klink had to listen in on his radio for the conversation with Vundel. But this is different: this is ME being the head of the mission, distracting the people in there a different way by being my MOTHER! It's much different than sickening myself with some general. I'm talking about MOTHER here!

Come to think about it, it doesn't seem to bad, does it? Not really, to tell you the truth. I think I'm exaggerating a little bit about Mother. However, the Gestapo has no idea if Mother is dead or alive, which _everyone_ has to graciously pointed out to me ever since we figured out that Hozellenan killed her the night he was supposed to kill me. The woman who crawled for help – arguing with her husband n the hallway outside of the room I was held hostage – was my mother, and she was killed quickly.

When Hozellenan's house exploded last year, nobody, not even the servants who survived, knew where my mother had gone to, for nobody has heard _where_ she was going and where she _went_ to and wouldn't try to find her in fear of her wrath. It is from recent findings that said she was rumored to be in Switzerland where she has been heading investigations for the Gestapo and was attempting to recruit our Allied men to join the Nazi's cause. We've seen the pictures of the woman who was supposed to be my mother. Although we're pretty sure it's an agent of ours, it's a nice likeness of Mother, or from what I've distantly remembered from her.

This is just another rumor we can _use_ to our advantage. To the Nazis, she might be _alive _and well but to us (that agent can prove it, if need be), she is dead and Hozellenan's confession to me last year hasn't been spoken to anyone on the Kraut's side.

It was just yesterday that Rob came up with the plan and I swear it all started with an innocent remark I made when we were in his quarters. Kinch was radioing Headquarters for more information on where to drop off O'Hara (he handed the message to Rob when he was done) and doing some research of his own, LeBeau was cooking lunch and Newkirk and Carter were playing a simple game of gin rummy. Mostly, it was normal activity for us.

O'Hara was becoming restless in the tunnels. Yes, he's a bit of a youngster (he's twenty-two compared to the rest of us in our mid-twenties to early thirties, or in Rob's case, mid-thirties) running around in there, but his mission is done and he needs to get back to London on the double with his information, our photos and the papers from the base. By tomorrow night – our deadline – he needs to be on the coast where the sub will be waiting. This would be the _only_ chance we'd get to move him there, for the sub comes once in a while and London needs that vital information from O'Hara and the plans/papers we're grabbing from the refinery, _now_.

I had come upon Rob's quarters, seeing that he was staring at a map of Germany. I opened the door quietly, closed it and slid behind him. I hugged him from behind, to give him some reassurance that we all believe in him as a commander, and kissed him on the forehead. I saw his smile, despite everything.

"I don't know, Desertstar," Rob said, as if he knew what I was thinking and it seemed that he always did know even after almost twenty years together. "This doesn't make sense. The security is high for such an important researching job, the Krauts have toughened up and I can't think of anything. This hasn't stopped us before, but I wish I knew what to do right now. I think I'm losing my touch."

"No, you're not. This is just a tougher assignment than most," I said, kissing him again all the while thinking I should put my feelings aside, but I couldn't. But I continued to talk to Rob and comfort him in his self-doubt. "We have a few advantages that the Krauts don't have. Well, we have Carter, even though he's a bit…well, silly, if even he can help us explode the base. But you have the loyalty of your men and the promise that they'd risk their lives for you even on a volunteer basis. We know where the oil refinery is, what we're up for and that the only two people who could get in without a security check is Hozellenan and Mother."

I felt surprised as I was suddenly was pushed back by Rob by the movement of his chair. Rob got up quickly and turned to face me. _He certainly has an idea now_, I thought as my back hit the floor. Rob was obviously excited and even was too thrilled to apologize for knocking me over. He just picked me up by the shoulders (I was still sore in my right shoulder at times, so it was a bit of a shock that I was grinding my teeth in pain as he picked me up) and placed me back on the ground saying, "Nikki, that's it! We can use you against these rumors to portray your mother and play up to it!"

I was confused that Rob did that and more to the point: _What was he TALKING about this time? What are his plans NOW?_

I was almost steady on my feet again when Rob disappeared from his quarters to round up his men and place his orders to the other prisoners as well. I wiped the dirt off of my uniform (the barracks haven't been cleaned in a while and it's irritating me) and stared out into the main room from the doorway. The men were bewildered as Rob gathered them up, the whole barracks, and ordered that some of them be sent around to the other nineteen barracks for he wanted them, as much as possible, to play a part in this scheme of his. Apparently, we were hitting _three_ birds with one stone in this plan of his (meaning getting the information from the oil refinery, destroying it and sending O'Hara off to London with it) and I was the main part of it. I was in the center of all of this again.

After his excitement had subsided, Rob took me aside and ordered, _a direct order_, that I take part of this plan for this ALL depended on me. The catch of it all is the rumors that have been circling around about Mother and where she has been for the past year. I have to admit this too, but I do look like her except for my eyes, green against her angry pale blue ones. My temper is exactly like her (staying with her too long when I was younger?) and my voice is almost _exactly_ hers, too. If I wasn't so nervous then I could call the office of the oil refinery (Kinch supplied it along with where to drop off O'Hara and which agent is getting him) and offer to come in there for some special surprise – coming back into Germany from Switzerland – and come with a gift of wine for the brave people who work in there. O'Hara will be my driver and after we get out of there, we'll get him to his destination and I'll drive back to Hammelburg, ditch the car elsewhere and head back to Stalag 13 on foot.

Meanwhile, Newkirk, LeBeau, Kinch and Carter will be messing around with one of the staff cars in the motor pool and make sure that I'll get it tomorrow night _before_ the diversion. The car will be outside the camp anyway, since we're going to be heading it to Hammelburg for town repairs, as we can't do anything with it without expert help. In that case, it'll go to some mechanics in Hammelburg who happen to be Underground agents from Unit 9 (the unit also has black market dealings and could supply us with boxes marked WINE for us and empty their supplies, of course). We'll then pick it up after we head out through the tunnels.

By the way, did I mention that LeBeau was coming with me and O'Hara? Yes, LeBeau is going to be in one of the boxes. He's going to grab the necessary materials from the safe (or wherever we can find information) and head back into the box. I'll be taking that one back with me, because I can of course, and head out with O'Hara. LeBeau and I get him to his destination and we drive back to Hammelburg and ditch the car back to the mechanics.

It's not as simple as it seems, because there is more. Carter and Newkirk, disguising themselves as simple German civilians, will be heading the long way to the oil refinery (via train and then on foot) and trying to find a weak spot so they can start a chain reaction and distract the guards when I get my clean getaway. Newkirk figured his way around the place, since he was there last time and was photographing, so he knew all the spots to stand and when and where the guards shone their lights and walked their patrols (it is just a matter of _where_ the weak spot is). They get done and meet us at O'Hara's meeting point and the four of us head back to Hammelburg and back to camp. Well, I should say that we are to get changed back to our uniforms in the tunnels and give ourselves up at the main gate.

That's where Rob and Kinch come in. Rob is going to report me, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk escaped to Klink and try to get him to head in one direction in the woods and have them search for a while. While they're gone, Kinch is going to start a fire (yes, a _fire_) on the south side of camp (Barracks 14 also volunteered to start one) so that the remaining guards, and the Shadow, are distracted with that. The, we have whole camp involved with that fire. They're going to try to help put out the fire while at the same time prolonging it until we four surrender at gates. Some will even try to head outside of the fence to escape. That's the dangerous par.

The best thing to do is to ensure that they'll be _chaos_. Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau and I will be giving ourselves up at the gate, as the others will after they see us (they were all ordered not to go far from camp) then we'll all be punished. But it'll be worth it, of course. There is an oil refinery that'll be gone and another vacant lot for sale.

Oops, Rob said it's time to make that phone call to the base's main office and I'm ready to vomit right now. I need another cigarette. Dammit, where's Newkirk when you need him the most?


	11. Be Cautious Now

**June 13  
****The Tunnels – 0200 Hours**

The phone call is over, and so far, Rob's insane plan is working. The guards and personal at the oil refinery are expecting one Colonel Victoria M. Hozellenan of the Gestapo to stop by for a surprise visit from Switzerland, where she was trying to recruit Allied soldiers to join Hitler's side, for their part on the Allied side is useless.

Rob and I agree and think that I actually convinced the people there that "Vicky" is alive and well. All we can hope for is that the other officers that Mother knew won't come over there and join in all the fun. I want this to be a minute job – get in and get out – and then leave. I also don't need Hochstetter, who, as I've heard and it has been the joke for a few years running, coming in and arguing about Nazi policies, as he and Mother did before. I heard this from Webber actually (he sometimes contacts us under a different code name, dangerous as it is, and works with us occasionally), who said that Mother was always arguing with Hochstetter on where her place should be and why she should (or shouldn't) be a matriarch of the family.

I never knew that Mother had it in her to do that to Hochstetter, the Hangman of the Stalags. She must have had more guts to argue with Hochstetter than I _ever_ will. I think, finally, that could be another fine line between us, another difference between us that I understand. I could never, in all of my grief, live up to her nor could I be the same as her, no matter the relations.

To tell the truth, I was hyperventilating in the tunnels before I came on the line (I didn't worry about O'Hara, for he was sleeping off of his drinking spree from the night before). Rob was guiding me down the ladder, since he found me shaking and thought that I needed help. I was so scared (this is an understatement) that I couldn't stand. Suddenly, I had an attack.

Kinch had the switchboards ready and everything and there I was, gasping and trying to say I couldn't breathe because I was so nervous. I really couldn't breathe for a few minutes and everyone was worried. I was struggling to ask for a simple paper bag for who knows how long (lucky we had one from the last visit to the bar, all in thanks to Newkirk) and I even got a nice cigarette, which I was happily smoking after I got back breathing regularly. I calmed down for a while. Rob was jokingly rubbing my shoulders as everyone else asked me constantly if I was ok, and I was.

I was done with my cigarette when it came time to call the office. The nervousness came back, but it wasn't with the same intensity from earlier. I tried taking a deep gulp of air, remembering how my mother was, as Kinch handed me the headphone set and the microphone. Kinch then flipped a few switches, made the call and gave me the ok sign. I put the headphone set to my ears and waited for the phone to be picked up, and after a few rings on their side, it was answered. "Captain Ruhle, Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler! Herr Captain, this is Colonel Hozellenan of the Gestapo calling," I answered as sweetly as I could. I knew Mother usually started out this way to get her way then turned violent when things went in the opposite direction. All I have to do is grow more irritated if I can't get into what Hozellenan created and call the local Gestapo headquarters to get my way, simple as that. I just hope it didn't go that far or else, they'd have the call traced, for sure, and I don't need the Hammelburg branch up in our little paradise.

I continued anyhow, despite the dangers. "I have decided to come back to Germany. I am approaching Berlin and heading to Dessau for a surprise for those who work there. Is later tonight an appropriate time? It is the only time I could come by." That last statement I put a little eagerness into. I wanted this idiot to think that that night was going to be it and I can't come on any other night.

"Colonel, it's a little too early to call, don't you think?" The Captain was hinting at the time being too soon for an inspection.

I was quick. "Herr Captain," I said, starting to get irritated, "I'm aware that it's early in the morning. I'm also aware that I have important meetings this day and the call couldn't wait until now. Please answer my question: is tonight the ideal night to come by?" Again, I emphasized the question so I can acquire my way. I think I made him jumpy because the next sentences he spoke, they were a little on the uneasy side.

"Well…umm…Colonel Hozellenan, there are rumors indicating you have not appeared around here in a year. The Gestapo has thought you were murdered in –"

"Fool, you didn't answer my question!" I said, yelling (I didn't realize that I also stood up too, I was playing the part _so_ well). "It doesn't matter where I have been in the last year or what the Gestapo has been investigating this past year about me. What matters is what I was doing in this past year in Switzerland and what I am going to do now. Answer my question now, _Corporal Ruhle_, or the circumstances in which I'll be there will be dire indeed, not only for you but for your scientists and commanding officer, not to mention the other Gestapo agents!" I sat back down, not realizing how well this was going over.

"But…but…Colonel Hozellenan…" The silly captain went into some frenzy and I heard him talking with someone else on the other side as he unsuccessfully covered the phone. I heard him talk about what I wanted and the person in charge must have howled at him for his stupidity for I heard that other officer yelling in German about how my wishes are to be granted and I could do as I wished. Apparently, it didn't matter where I was and what people knew where I am. After all, I am supposed to be head of a Gestapo unit, missing for a year and now heading back to see how things are going at the oil refinery.

Suddenly, just as I was going to chuckle about the outcome of everything, the Captain came back on the line. "Colonel, your wishes are as you want them. Herr Major Kinenhoffe will be meeting you at the main entrance at about 2030 hours tonight. He asks if you need anything else."

Yes! I scored! The stupid captain was giving me an opportunity to grab those charts and papers about the oil refinery and here's my chance! "Herr Captain, please give the Major my deepest regards. But, what I want most is for you to put together reports of the refinery and its progress from the past year until now. I want to know how well we are moving along and how much we can use to destroy the Allied Forces. I want charts, diagrams and anything else you can put gather for me. I care not about the size about it, just make it as complete as you can make it. I have not seen anything of this past year and I feel that I am within reason to see everything." I demanded this carefully, making sure that no suspicion was thrown on me. I didn't say that it was within my rights because it sounded American. I plainly asked for the papers because I didn't see any developments in a year.

My careful wording became a reward for us. "Yes, Herr Colonel. Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!" I replied before handing the microphone and headset back to Kinch so he can hang up.

At the time, I was laughing so hard. "Oh, my…he just…practically handed me…the papers for the place," I said in between laughing, "And thank G-d Mother was…_such_ a figure…I mean, they kept calling me 'Herr Colonel.' I can't believe it!" By then, I lost it. I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. Rob chuckled along with me, but my best guess was that he was excited about this. I even got the men to ease up a bit at least.

Carter joked, "You were so good, Colonel Michalovich. It was almost like the real thing."

I stopped laughing and stared at Carter for a minute before answering. "Yes, Carter, it certainly felt like the real thing. I like to think I got too involved and I don't want to be." I was trying to get serious again, but my amazing performance, after gasping for air because I was so edgy, was stellar. I couldn't believe I fooled the idiots there. My only hope is that they don't check into anything and follow the rumors like everyone else does. Then again, the Gestapo checks up on everything, so it might not work.

Just as I was savoring this moment, we heard someone open the entranceway to the tunnel, via the bunk and something then hitting the sides of the bunk. We all knew it wasn't the Gestapo, but one of the men, Morrison. Like I said, _everybody_ knew that before and even _after_ he opens up the bunk, because that particular sergeant always has that riding crop of his around and he always makes sure that we are aware it's him. He _always_ hits the sides of the bunk and it drives everyone insane.

"Colonels!" we heard his Southern drawl echoing in the tunnels. "There's going to be a bedcheck in a few minutes. Schultz was just in here saying that it's a-comin' soon."

"All right, Sergeant, we're coming!" Rob and I said this simultaneously and as soon as we did, we faced each other and grinned. Every time we do that it drives the others crazy. I find it best not to do it too often lest I have jealous bedfellows. I like it better that we all remain friends, but there are those here who hate Rob, not that I blame them or anything. It's just that, if we'd opened up more, they'd understand except, of course, we both can't.

Anyhow, we both had the usual eye rolling and grumbling men who started going up. Only Kinch remained, for some reason. As he put the wiring away, he asked Rob (who was waiting for the others to go up), "So, is the mission still on for tomorrow?"

Rob was puzzled as to why Kinch asked that because we just cleared up one stage of the plan. "Of course it's still on. Why wouldn't it be, Kinch?"

"I don't know, Colonel Hogan," Kinch said as he was finished and started heading up the stairs of the ladder before we colonels did. "I think we should be listening to what goes on more and not rush ahead." He then headed up the ladder, leaving me and Rob more confused than ever.

Rob turned to look at me for answers and I did the same. What _was_ Kinch talking about? We both knew to be careful, but was there something Kinch heard that we didn't hear? Are we missing something in the plan?

The two of us went up the ladder and closed off the tunnels. Just as Rob tapped the entranceway closed, Schultz and his fellow guards came in. They were angry at us colonels for being out of bed. There was no punishment though, but a command to go to bed. I'm sure Schultz knew we were up to something, but chose not to see it.

At the same time, I was still pondering Kinch's daring words when the guards came for a bedcheck. Even now I am thinking about it. What does Kinch know that we don't? I wish I could ask him and listen to his opinion. I am sure Rob would do the same, had he not the reason to continue this mission.


	12. After the Mission: In the Cooler

**June 15  
****The Cooler – 1100 Hours, I think**

Carter, Rob and I are sharing this meager cell in the cooler for the month. Newkirk and LeBeau are in the cell next to us with Wilson, who is also here for the month after _that_ night when everything seemed to go so right, but turned into a disaster.

It is daylight out. The sun seems to tell me that it's almost 1100 hours already, but I can't tell from this barred window. The German summer is already upon us in full-swing: the cool breezes of the morning often come with the warmth of the noon beams. Already I can feel a hot day coming.

It is worse the remainder of the prisoners here won't be able to enjoy the good weather after _that_ night. For me, life will always be colder than the freezing winters here and the frozen wasteland that can never thaw. I can't believe what has happened _that_ night, the night we all went out to destroy the oil refinery, only a day and half ago. It seemed forever ago when tragedy struck us for once.

I can't believe that I'm crying right now. Rob and Carter are still sleeping after all of this commotion and recovering from not only the mission, but also the events after it. I have not been able to. I know that Rob hasn't been able to have a decent amount of sleep because of the operation. Carter, LeBeau, Wilson and Newkirk have been through too much already, so I had better not disturb them all with the sobbing – my soft crying is enough.

I had better hope that the remaining three in the other cell are sound asleep after all of this too, but hope, this time, has failed me. We have lost someone and gained another victory against Germany simultaneously. It has become an equal balance at last.

I need to write this down. I can look at this later and think: _This is just another nightmare of yours, Nikki. STOP thinking about it and think head to the future! You didn't do anything, it never happened and of course, LIFE IS NORMAL_. But it isn't. Rob is caught dead in the head of a dangerous operation in the middle of a P.O.W. camp in Germany and he's surrounded by the most loyal men (brothers-in-arms) any commander can have. We have succeeded in many missions without losing a single man from the camp, until two nights ago.

I have to say this, and I can probably mention this before I lose myself in my sobbing. Kinch is dead, murdered in cold blood. Oh…my…G-d…he's dead.

There, I wrote it, even twice! I couldn't…_wouldn't_…speak of it for the short time we've been in here. I wrote it in here for all to see later on, though. I am so scared about that night still. I am on a roll of fear and nobody can wrap it up, store it away and keep it there forever. No, I am the child that unwrapped the feeling on Christmas Day and kept the most hideous thing I could in the hopes of soon getting rid of it. But I can't, _ever_.

~00~

It was only those two nights ago that I had some confidence in myself. I was still laughing about that phone call and was almost chided myself to be brave because we've been on more dangerous missions than this. Why be nervous? I was as carefree as I was when my last mission as a free woman came about. Playing the part of Mother was going to be a _cinch_. All I was worried about was Hochstetter and _if_ the Krauts find out that it's me and not Mother. Sure, I can convince them on the phone, and Rob was saying how much we are alike (more than I'll _ever_ admit) but there is always that _what if_ that hung over our heads. Kinch's warnings from earlier that morning went unheeded and the mission was on.

In the late afternoon, at about 1730 hours, the men were outside at their exercise period before roll call. I was sitting around at Barracks 11 watching a basketball game between Barracks 11 and 2 when Rob came up behind me and knocked into me, a sure sign that something's happening. I was scared for a second until I, as always, saw the bomber's jacket.

"It is all clear," Rob whispered and went off quickly to one side to cheer the men from our barracks who were playing against those in Barracks 11.

The next part of the plan came quickly. From the motor pool, I saw Klink's car being towed by a supply truck (a supply truck?), driven by Schultz. I could just see Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau beyond the truck talking to Kommandant Klink, probably on why his car can't be fixed here. All three of them were distracted with Klink (all I heard from the Iron Eagle was "My car…why does it need to be repaired in town?" over and over again and this, in of itself, was a bad sign), so I had to find a way to distract LeBeau and get him over here so that we could get going with O'Hara. In addition, Newkirk and Carter need to get ready, grab everything and head out through the tunnels to the train station.

Then I had an idea. Long of a distance it was, I ran to the motor pool from Barracks 11 and stood just off to the side of the entrance. As I watched Schultz drive through the gate and into town with Klink's car hooked behind it, I removed my cap and army jacket, took down my hair and shook it out. I even had the indecency to unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt, revealing much more than a bra and some skin.

Flinging my jacket over my shoulder, I walked past the entranceway to the motor pool. All of a sudden, all the men, the three I wanted and more than I needed, stood in attention and whistled, cat-called and stared at me. The three in the motor pool turned their attention to me and not to Klink (who was wrinkling his forehead in frustration) and they smiled. I put my cap back on and was smiling as Klink yelled, "Colonel Michalovich, you are not in uniform!"

"Ah, but Kommandant Klink," I protested with a little pout. "It's so hot today. Can't you make a _little_ exception for me, a _poor_ defenseless woman?"

"You are making a disturbance in this camp! Get back into uniform and keep it that way!" was Klink's response. Afterward, he raised his eyebrow and decided that maybe it's hot after all and took off his jacket except of course, he went out of uniform. _Geez, he has some resilience today_, I thought as I smiled ever so sadly at the men around me as I dramatically buttoned up my shirt, fixed my hair as best as I could and put my jacket back on. It got LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk's attention and they gathered around me.

"Prepare yourselves to head out and break out," was all I said. They got the drift and knew the drill. I turned around to head back to the barracks and they followed me there.

I turned back to Rob, who was still at Barracks 11, and smiled at him. He gave me his most mischievous smile and saluted me. My grin got wider, but it was LeBeau who got me to stop gaping at Rob. It wasn't time to flirt with him. Then I remembered (stupid me) that we still had a mission. I went back to the barracks with the men, headed down into the tunnels with them and got ready. O'Hara was waiting for us down there, sober and full of ferment, anxiously wringing his hands with anticipation.


	13. Let's Go

O'Hara was ready to go by the time we got into the tunnels and was impatient to leave. It only took about fifteen more minutes for me, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau to get all ready and organized. The plan is pretty much the same, expect for a few things: LeBeau has to nab the camera, since he had the changed assignment of photographing the laboratory instead of the papers, since we're giving those to O'Hara to give to London (the pictures are being sent later and those from this past week are safely deposited in O'Hara's pants). Newkirk and Carter had to head to Dessau via train, dressed, as usual, as an elderly woman (Newkirk) and her son who can't go into the army (Carter) and causing a distraction as Newkirk finds a weak spot. O'Hara was going to be the driver still and we're dropping him off at the meeting point outside of Dessau after we're done (Klink's car is at the shop, run by two agents of Underground Unit 9, who are supplying us with empty boxes for wine and it is being dropped off after we're done with it). Meanwhile, Kinch and Rob are going to report us missing and Kinch is going to start a fire in the south side of camp as the other prisoners try to prolong it or escape, whatever suits their fancy. Klink's heading out to search for me, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk, so it'll be chaos.

Me, well, I still have to play the part of Mother and somehow look into the lab, grab those papers and head out with LeBeau (in the wine case) and O'Hara as soon as I can. I pick up Newkirk and Carter at O'Hara's meeting point and we head back to the Hammelburg shop, drop off the car, head for the tunnels, change and give ourselves up at the Main Gate. Being in the cooler will be worth it.

~00~

It was at 1800 hours that all five of us deemed it safe to head out. We had our walkie-talkies out and the codes were agreed upon ahead of time by Rob. Our guns were ready to be used and shells were supplied with each group. To our luck, the dogs were inside the camp (LeBeau had told them to be quiet already) and we had about an hour and a half before I had to be in Dessau. O'Hara, LeBeau and I were already running late in getting to Hammelburg and Carter and Newkirk were going to miss the 1835 hour train if they didn't hurry. Again, it was lucky for us that the guards were preoccupied with their duties elsewhere and the light only shone on the tree stump once as Newkirk was coming out. The remaining people were out (including me) and were hidden in the dense forest by the time the penetrating light shone again on the stump.

The five of us then headed out to find the main road to Hammelburg, about a quarter of a mile away, and barely avoided a patrol on the way. Ever since Maeve's capture and death in Gestapo hands, there have been more patrols out, and on Hochstetter's orders, no doubt. We all have false identifications, but it would be suspicious to have an alleged to-be-missing Gestapo colonel out with her driver without a car, a Frenchman in Allied uniform and a woman with her son walking together.

At about the time we got to the main road, I ordered the men that we split. O'Hara, LeBeau and I went to follow the road into town using the woods as camouflage and Newkirk and Carter went across the road, carefully behind a patrol's back, to get to the train station in the far end of the woods. They wouldn't be suspected otherwise.

_This is already proving to be a long night_, I thought as O'Hara, LeBeau and I headed further and further into the woods and followed the road into Hammelburg. O'Hara kept a close watch on the patrols as we went ahead of one of them and came into town. LeBeau could only scoff at the Krauts behind us, without noticing the glances of fear from me and O'Hara.

It was a bit on the chilly side as O'Hara, LeBeau and I reached Hammelburg. The night was calm and cool, a change of pace in a hot summer. The townspeople (other than those nightly bouts soldiers have) were still and sleeping. For such a busy town, Hammelburg was motionless. The Gestapo weren't around inspecting and raiding houses, since they were in the woods searching for more Allied Underground agents so they stood near the main road checking; only regular foot soldiers watched this ghostlike town.

This, in and out of itself, was a relief to the three of us as we crept slowly in the shadows to the mechanics' place, which was the Unit 9 hideout, if you want to call it that. The place itself lay near the woods, so it was not a long walk. It was, however, harder to get _in_.

As soon as we got there I saw a light indicating someone was up and about, but I had a challenge: more _important _people to watch. I had to grab O'Hara and LeBeau by their collars before they rushed inside to get themselves killed. "Do you two know anything?" I hissed angrily at them as I clutched them before they turned the corner (Rob taught LeBeau better). "There might be Gestapo in there. Remember that they stepped up patrols of the units? They could be watching us now, not to mention those Kraut soldiers over yonder."

Struggling out of my grip and pulling O'Hara out of my imperial grip, LeBeau rambled on. "Oui, Colonel," LeBeau answered hotly, "but there is enough here to kill them all." He patted his heart with his fist. _He's going too patriotic with this_, I thought, rolling my eyes.

O'Hara knew where I was going with this and stopped to think. "LeBeau, she's right," O'Hara said quietly. "There might have been over ten Gestapo agents in there and there are only three of us. Now, what sort of suspicion can they throw at us if they see me, Colonel Michalovich and you?"

I think afterward LeBeau understood at once for he stopped his stubborn motions and stood up straighter, asking me, "What's the plan, then?" He even brushed off the incident altogether.

"Well," I said impatiently, "let me go in first then I can give in the signal to say if it's ok to come in. If I adjust my hat, then I'm saying that it's all right to come in, but if you hear anything else, abort, I mean, _abort_ the mission and call everyone else." I indicated the walkie-talkie hidden in each person's pants pocket. LeBeau nodded and O'Hara grinned at me grimly.

I sighed and resumed. "I mean it, you two. That's a direct order." I know that I don't give too many orders around here, but I want them to be safe and I want the men to come first. I don't want to be a commander who stayed behind and I don't want the men itching for adventure either. They get enough of this in war and to tell you the truth, it isn't a game young men have to play in order to be heroes.

It was with yet another sigh, as I thought this, that I turned the corner of the building and headed to the front door. I knocked five times, very gently, and waited silently. It was a second later when the door opened ajar and I was staring down the barrel of a gun. I gulped silently and said, "Do you have the directions we need to head into the west? The Russian winters are too cold."

The recognition code was realized and I got my response in a light male German accent. "Yes, but the sun has already set in that direction. Follow it there in the afternoons." He lowered the gun and opened the door more. His voice, however, was one of relief. I think Maeve's death pushed some people over the edge a little.

This man was angry (the Gestapo uniform I had on wasn't very encouraging), but I think a little thankful that I came finally, for the car. "The car is in the back," he said. "Do you have your companions?" I nodded and turned my head to the corner, where LeBeau and O'Hara were peeking out. So, according to the plan, I tipped my cap. At this signal, the two of them came to me.

"The car's in the back of the building," I said to them, repeating what our contact said. To our contact, I asked, "How are we to leave here?"

"There is a gate on the other side," he said, pointing to my right. "Just open the gate and leave. We'll close the gate behind you. I have some people out and about with their nightly work."

"No problem," O'Hara said excitedly as he and LeBeau went to the side of the building, searching frantically for the gate and opening it.

I smiled at the eager pair and spun back to our Underground associate again. "Thank you. I didn't get your name though. What is it?"

The man just smiled at me before going back inside the shop. "Desertstar, let's just say I'm Rhiannon," he said. I shook at my head, realizing where the code name came from (Celtic mythology, like Maeve's) and followed LeBeau and O'Hara to the gate. Rhiannon had just gone inside and the light was shut off.

O'Hara was just inside the car, I saw, and the wine boxes were in the truck. Lucky for us, the Underground said they would load the boxes with explosives for us so Carter didn't need to make any for us (they were timed perfectly, so as soon as we got there we would have enough time to get into Dessau, meet and greet for twenty minutes and get out in ten minutes). There was an empty one for LeBeau outside of the car and I locked him into the box myself, making sure he could breathe (he could).

I said, "LeBeau if you could hear me, knock twice. If you can't hear me, knock once." I was joking around, but I did hear those two knocks. I also heard some muffling (swearing, most likely, since the tone was angry) and knew that he was all right. I picked up the box (LeBeau was _heavy_) and loaded it into Klink's staff car into the trunk, tying the ropes around the box and the car's trunk. I closed everything up, went inside the car and just told O'Hara, "Let's go."

And so we went off into the night. Someone from the shop went out to close the gate for us. Another, as we stopped at the end of the driveway, made sure that LeBeau's box was upright and was positioned more on the outside, since ropes held the boxes in the top and trunk, so that he could take pictures.


	14. In and Out Easily Enough

Even though I kept hearing LeBeau muffling his French profanity in the box's air-hole behind me in the trunk, it was a fine ride to the oil refinery expect for the driver. O'Hara was enthused that he was heading out of here soon and was displaying it in his puerile, aggressive driving. He kept going on the other side of the road, just missing some trees and once, he hit a pothole in the small town of Köthen so big the boxes of explosives almost popped out of the trunk, ropes tightly holding them back or not.

"O'Hara!" I was yelling when we were getting out of Köthen and nearing Dessau. "What's the matter with you? Is this a way to show you have a drivers' license?"

"Sorry, Mad'm," he said, still animated, bouncy and oblivious to the road, "I'm just so –"

"Yes, yes, glad that this mission for you is over," I finished angrily as he missed another tree on the side of the road. "But can you please slow down? We don't want any Krauts thinking we're part of the Underground and running off to England by sub. And next time, make sure LeBeau or I am driving, and that's an order I'm willing to carry though." That last tidbit was a joke really. I was jealous that O'Hara was heading out and Rob, LeBeau, Newkirk, Kinch, Carter, the other men and even I were stuck in the hellhole called Stalag 13 still.

"Yes, Mad'm," O'Hara answered as he slowed down and actually looked out of the windshield to watch where he was going, adjusting his mirrors to see behind him. There were no checkpoints ahead and for this I am glad for. There even wasn't any as we entered Dessau again, but there were patrols out there, saluting and pointing us in the correct direction. O'Hara drove slowly back through the forests of azure trees, dyed to match the night.

~00~

Just on time, at about 1930 hours, we entered the gates of the oil refinery and our credentials checked out. I was accepted into the refinery and I had vouched for O'Hara and snapped at the guards at the gate that he was my driver, Hans Günter. The guards stared at his false paperwork and threatened to call where he was employed. I yelled upon hearing this, "Is it not enough to trust me? What do you take me as, a liar and a fool?"

The sentry at the post who became the target of this false anger was so afraid of my barking voice that he accepted O'Hara, no questions asked. I mean, who can cast doubt on a colonel like me?

As soon as we entered through the gate, I heard LeBeau's camera behind me clicking softly away at the brilliant lights of the buildings and of the place's scientific machines. There were what seemed to be thousands of buildings dedicated to this oil refinery and towards the center was where they extracted the oil to run them all. I also knew that in the following structures around me were the places they studied it, created more weapons and even there were regular housing for the scientists and not their families, doomed to stay here until the end of the war. _This just proves how humane the Krauts are_, I thought sarcastically as I heard a shot in the distance. Maeve _did_ say that they shoot those scientists who escape and those who prove to be lazy. It didn't even have to be the scientists, but those who surveyed the area for food. I shudder to think about these people, who are ordered to stay here day and night, never to see their loved ones ever again. Even those who just walk in the outlawed forests are murdered in cold blood. They didn't even have to _look_ for food either.

The car was constantly guarded and guided by the Gestapo agents and those sentries that work here regularly. O'Hara just compulsively followed them to where they wanted us so not to arouse suspicion. This obedience just landed us at the main office, which was just a few hundred yards from where they take the oil.

The nearest guard of the staff opened the door for me and saluted me, yelling loudly and echoing, "Heil Hitler, Herr Colonel Hozellenan!" Everyone around him stood in attention and repeated him, causing another echo, this time louder and probably heard in all the way to Dessau and maybe even faraway Cottbus. _Was Mother this influential?_ I thought._ She got this much respect from those in the Kraut army that they called her by a male title?_

I saluted them back and said, "Heil Hitler!" casually back at them. This was obviously the best thing to do and something Mother did for everyone was smiling and best of all, my neck wasn't prickling.

This was a sure sign that things were going to go well. I was even beginning to enjoy things when that idiot captain who answered the phone earlier came out and stumbled with his greetings. "We had no i-idea you were coming on such s-s-short n-notice," he said as his commanding officer stood back and shook his head at the pathetic effort the Captain was making. "We have e-e-e-everything you have ask-asked for. It is a-a-all in-si-side."

"Good," I said taking off my white gloves. "I have just wanted to make a short and more secretive visit. Since my husband's unfortunate death, I have found more work for myself. Those Allied forces have to be defeated and those in self-doubt I have been trying to gather in earnest. The Fatherland must win this war this time, and we still have the resources to defeat Churchill and his allies. Chamberlain was a better prime minister, in my opinion. At least he had our interests in mind."

I looked up and found that the Captain was staring at me in fear. "Well?" I barked. "Have some men get these crates of wine inside. Is this what I get for all the trouble I had for coming here and bringing this for the men who work here? Move! Moveyou fool!" I had especially emphasized the last part about moving, for I had about half-dozen men coming from nowhere and opening the trunk and taking out the crates of explosives. The box LeBeau was in was moved first and the men who took it staggered a bit from the unusual weight before moving it into the office.

I followed the men who took LeBeau inside and found myself in some sort of office and obviously one of the labs. It looked more of a main office from the outside, but this proved to be the place where they inspect and store everything. Calls were taken here, files were stored and everything they plan to ship out is here. _No wonder it is such a big structure_, I thought foolishly as I looked around. There was an office part, of course, and it was on this side that there was a safe, filing cabinets (many of them) and a glass wall that separated this office side from the storage compartment. There were barrels and barrels of oil and many new weapons I cannot even describe for they are so complex and hard to explain about.

I heard the camera in LeBeau's box click away. O'Hara was at the car, barred from the door understandably, but he kept tapping his wrist when I looked back to see why they didn't let him come through the door. He was indicating the time we have here to get out before the explosives take this place down. So I had better hurry.

The Captain and his commanding officer came into the office after me. "There are your reports for this year and from the other previous years this lab has been functional," the commanding officer of the night, one Major Strunendüff I've learned later, indicated to me. I took notice of the huge pile of paperwork that lay on that desk.

I nodded my head in approval and said, "Good, very good, gentlemen. Now, I need that crate carried out," I pointed to LeBeau's box, which was placed next to the glass wall, "because of my own personal reasons." I gave them an evil glare, something I've seen on Mother when I've fought with her, which the Major took as dangerous. He whispered to the Captain, who called the guards at the door, and they took it to the trunk of Klink's staff car.

I was satisfied that everything was going my way for once, and all in thanks to Mother. _Rest in peace, Mother_, I thought, almost sarcastically, as I watched the crate went into the car. I knew it was LeBeau's for it was the only one with an air-hole at the top big enough for air and a camera lens.

After I was happy that everything was in place (another part of the character, if I remember correctly), I faced the fearful captain and his stoic commanding officer. "Now, gentlemen," I said as sweetly as I could muster, "I am feared to have been followed. Although I am armed with a skilled fighter, I must be leaving. I know this place is as secure as I've hoped it to be, and am satisfied everything is in order, as we've planned, but I know Allied fliers could come in any mo –"

Then, I was interrupted by some bombs going off, and from what I could hear, from a corner of the refinery. _Such perfect timing!_ "They are here! Sound the alarm to the gunners!" the commanding officer, Major Strunendüff, said suddenly, running out the door and searching the skies for the planes that will never come.

The Captain, still scared of everything and _everybody_, said in German, "You should stay here, Herr Colonel. It is safer here."

I shook my head in despair, still in character, and yelled through the alarms and bombing, "Some security you have here! I am leaving this place and making sure Berlin hears of this! Allies bombers could NOT have known about this!" I stormed out through all of the fury and quickly headed to the car with the plans, grabbed on the way out, in my arms. A guard posted at the back of the car opened the door for me. O'Hara, already in the drivers' seat, followed the directions the guards were giving him as we exited the place.

After we headed out of the gates, I felt a prickling in my neck. I knew it wasn't Carter and Newkirk, for I knew in my heart that they got away. There was yelling about a fire behind us because of bombs, not intruders yet (I heard them). I also knew that it wasn't the contacts we were going to meet because I knew it was in a secret, deep part of the forests in Germany, a forbidden place because of not only patrols (rare as they were there), but also some folk superstition. Then I remembered something that we left at Stalag 13, _someone_, that Kinch was probably talking about before the mission started…

The Shadow was still at Stalag 13 and well aware, by the time he hears about the oil refinery explosion, that it was our fault. And his contacts are everything, telling him of the sabotage that goes on and about.

Realizing this as O'Hara sped away from the action of the refinery (it was as if he read my mind), I had ordered the car stopped as soon as we were a good distance from the refinery, about a few miles into the forests. I was panicking and I wanted LeBeau around and not in that box anymore time he needs to be (another paranoid tendency of mine, to make sure everyone I know is alright when I know others elsewhere are in danger). I had almost forgotten he was a bit claustrophobic, too.

As soon as the puzzled O'Hara stopped the car at the side of the road, I leapt out and went to the back of the car. I opened the trunk and opened the box with my bare hands. And there was LeBeau, already passed out and not dead, thank G-d. I checked his pulse (throbbing, but alive) and lifted him myself to the car. I made sure the camera was still on him, and laid him down in the back seat, shutting the trunk and the doors before ordering O'Hara to move again, and quickly.

LeBeau woke up after a few minutes. I smiled at him. He smiled back at me saying, "I must have forgotten that I hated tight spaces."

"Indeed," I said, aware that he was sucking up to me again. "Aren't you happy you got out in time?" I was a little irritated that he forgot (and so did everyone else, even myself, the usually thoughtful one). But he was the smallest person here and could fit anywhere and that was why Rob gets him into these messes. _I'll have my revenge later_, I thought.

"Oui," he answered, "but did we get the refinery?" A sudden explosion answered our question. A chain reaction must have happened, for it became louder and louder. The explosion lit the night skies and it seemed to be day again.

O'Hara, driving erratically again against my wishes and orders, whooped in excitement and all LeBeau and I could do was grin in happiness. Another major source of victory for the Krauts was destroyed. Our men were saved once more.


	15. Herself to Blame

I was so happy to see Carter and Newkirk safe and sound, still in their disguises, as O'Hara headed deeper into the woods of Germany and far away from Dessau. I didn't know where we were, but I was aware of how much light we still had. The explosion had created another sun that followed us for miles. It seemed to be a good sign, the perfect omen. It was so bright I even saw the faces of everyone there: Carter was still boyishly smiling at a job-well-done and Newkirk had his hands in his dress pockets nervously waiting for us three and producing a cigarette to light.

Our contact, who looked almost exactly like O'Hara, searched the woods cautiously for the car and was enthused to find us alive. O'Hara had his papers ready for London and was almost as motivated to get going with our contact.

"Patrick!" our contact yelled as soon as O'Hara stopped the car.

O'Hara, realizing who the person was, jumped out of the car and yelled, "Connor!" The both embraced, a family feeling, and then I knew that they were brothers. Our contact was just older and much more matured than our jumpy O'Hara.

_Perfect_, I thought as the two just yammered off quietly, realizing where they were, and walked away, waving away to us in thanks. O'Hara, who had already grabbed the papers but almost forgetting he had the keys, turned back for a final time and threw them to me through the open window. I caught them, smiled at him, and turned to face the heroes for the last time, grim and tired already.

"Seems like we had a happy endin'," Newkirk commented as he and Carter came to the car.

I grinned again, everyone saw it at the light, and said, "Yes, we certainly have one. Let's get back to Hammelburg before anything bad happens." Newkirk and Carter, still in costume as the mother and son team, agreed with me and headed to the car. I handed Carter the keys as he hopped into the front seat of the car. Newkirk came into the back seat and was arguing with LeBeau about how much space each person has in the car. I just shoved them both to the other side of the car as they jostled me and shut the door, moving across their bodies to achieve it.

Tapping Carter's shoulder as I settled down, I said, "Play it again, Sam, and hit the road on the way." Carter actually understood what I meant for once, started the engine and started to drive away. I'm still wondering how he and Newkirk knew these woods so well.

~00~

My group reached Hammelburg just in time, at about 2340 hours, and Carter immediately went in search of the mechanics' shop and found it in time, recognizing Rhiannon, who was standing by the side of the road, seeking us out. Carter followed his directions when he motioned we head for the back.

When the car was parked and everyone got out of the car, Rhiannon rushed back to us and said, "I just got a very urgent message from Papa Bear. He said to come back immediately and return as quickly as possible. The camp's attempts of distracting the guards with a fire have failed and Herr Direktor has ordered to shoot you and the others if the guards find out where you are. The Kommandant is still searching for you. I think, though, that Colonel Hogan wants to escape, but didn't say to follow the plan or not. He just said something about a Schultz."

Suddenly, my body went cold and my neck, which had been prickling ever since we left the refinery, hurt with such intensity. Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau turned to face me, already nervous. "What?" I said. "We were ordered back. Let's head back, quickly, and into the tunnels. Then we can see what can be done to escape. I think he wants us to be caught by Schultz. Remember, his gun is unloaded…we can hope tonight."

The four, me included, were not very confident in what we had to do, but I knew that we had to get back to camp or else the Gestapo would nab us. Hochstetter will be more than happy to interrogate us or even kill is. He's wanted to do that since day one.

I was just about to rouse the others to leave with me when Rhiannon stopped me. "One of the men sent these and it was ordered that you stay here until you are finished," he said as he handed me our uniforms, all of them. I sighed and realized that he was right. To me, this only meant that there was no _time_ to get into the tunnels. We had to change and hope for the best that we were not caught in the woods.

With trembling hands, I handed over Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk's uniforms as Rhiannon motioned for us to come inside. I did, with a terror in my body and a cramp in my neck. It was making me sick with fear, but dragging on the time would not help us or our cause. We had to get back to camp as soon as possible.

By the time Carter, Newkirk and I were finished dressing the Gestapo had come back to town. As a matter of fact, they were heading back to Headquarters for more people to search for prisoners…us, as the word went around the not-so-empty streets. After the patrols had passed and the streets were quiet again, we prisoners rushed out and headed for the nearby woods. All four of us ran so fast, as if we were still in basic training, and I would see the men besides me holding their breath, wishing for some luck tonight and that everybody will live this night. I had that piece in my heart still together, repaired but in on piece, so I knew that Rob was still alive. The other men, however, I had no idea about it but the intensifying prickling in my neck is saying that something else, something more horrible that will come.

LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and I reached Stalag 13 in no time as we continued to run. And there was no time to think about what we were going to do next. Even after all these missions where we all ducked the light just to get into the tunnels, we instead ran into the lights, just as we were ordered to. I don't know how or why the other three knew what I had intended for us to do (suicide, more or less). They knew we had to run into those guns…and we did. I didn't know until the last moment, but there was a line of shiny machine guns at the edges of the fenceless camp, on almost all sides except where the fire was suppose to be. Every guard that could be spared was there.

Schultz was, of course, in charge of them firing but when he saw us, he yelled immediately "Hold your fire!" instead of following orders to shot us when found. Hands up, we four, out of breath and almost not able to stand up, gave ourselves in and the guards, nearest to the Main Gate, went to grab us. It was those who went out to find us who took us in from behind, as it appeared.

And there was Klink in front of us, in all of his glory, who found us. His smiles told me that his report to Berlin was going to be in his favor. Even though he didn't say anything, I knew that if he was transferred out of here, we're all dead.

The guards who took us in roughly pushed us back through the now-damaged fences and barbed wire piles of the camp and shoved all four of us to the ground, where I found myself looking at a pair of boots. When I looked up, body still on the ground, I saw that it was the Shadow who stood victorious in front of us instead of Klink. Behind him were two guards, one holding Rob and the other holding Kinch. When I searched for Klink behind me, I saw that Klink wasn't smiling anymore, and with reason.

I motioned that all four of us stand, and although it took effort from Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk to because they were tired from running, I urged that they do it before something happens to _them_.

The Shadow laughed at my efforts, _always laughing_ at my loyalty. He even said, "Some escape plan you had, Colonel Michalovich. Four prisoners escape and the others start a fire, just so that the others leave. You escaped to blow up the oil refinery in Dessau. You almost succeeded in getting your way this time, despite destroying the oil refinery."

Klink stepped in again, and as always, it was for the worse. "Herr Direktor, that is impossible! There has been no such –"

"Klink, don't you watch you own camp?" the Shadow snapped as he turned to face Klink. "The prisoners have been working for the Allied effort under your nose and all you can do is say how impossible it is! They probably have a tunnel system under here and some contacts in town to pull this off. Reports have gotten to me just now saying that Colonel Hozellenan of the Gestapo dropped by, and reports have said _she's been murdered_ by the Underground agents a year ago. Others have followed the rumors that she was working in Switzerland, gathering intelligence and Allied men. Even if she is that loyal to the Führer and has worked personally with him, then _why_ would there be a visit from her and not a soul saying they saw her in_ Berlin_? Don't you think some fool like this one here," he indicated me, "could trick them and play her mother to destroy one of our last war efforts?"

Klink was horrified by this and tried to grab some reassurance from us that we didn't do anything, but all six of us gave blank looks, even Kinch and Rob.

When the Shadow received no answer and nothing but silence, he grabbed me and twirled me around so that my back was to Rob and the only people to see me were some guards, Klink, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter. He twisted my arms so that I couldn't move. Out of nowhere, pulled a gun on me and pointed it to my head. "Prepare your prayers, Jewish bitch," he said, "and say goodbye to your lover. I will not miss this time, nor will the gun malfunction, and will teach some humility yet." Apparently he had done some homework if he knew most of what we did. It was the end and he had justification to kill me at last.

I closed my eyes and prepared for the end when I heard a voice behind me. "Let her go. What proof do you have she or anybody else here did anything?" Out of nowhere, Kinch spoke boldly and he continued to insult the Shadow. I knew it was a fatal mistake and wanted to stop Kinch, but I couldn't.

Somehow, being held by the guard had given Kinch some courage and strength. "If there haven't been any escapes from Stalag 13, how can you tell that this night there has been something to distract you so that something can be destroyed? We did nothing but put out a fire tonight and safe whatever we could of the camp. Surely can you thank us for something we did out of friendship and not because we're enemies of the state?" I knew Kinch spoke out of turn and out of loyalty and that he was a dead man if he spoke further. Even with those words, he just sealed his Death. And I was right, I was so _right._

I felt the gun move from my head and all of a sudden, I was dropped. The Shadow kicked me aside and I tumbled and was caught by LeBeau and Carter (Klink wanted to help me up but didn't _dare_ with the Shadow so nearby). What happened next, in split horror behind me, was not what I expected, but revenge is always sweet for the Shadow. He had always hated the black men of this camp and when hearing Kinch say something that innocent and contradicting to his own beliefs, something so out of turn, he has found his chance to take away something from me when he has no proof I did something but his reasoning through research. And he did.

The Shadow, I saw from the ground beyond LeBeau and Carter, faced Kinch and said, "Why not do this out of friendship?" Then, I heard it, the most horrible sounds in the world…the most putrid, rancid shots fired, four of them, into Kinch. The guard who held him let him drop to the ground as the shots rang out and kicked his body brutally, laughing as he walked away.

Everything felt like it was going ever so slowly…the Shadow laughing and kicking the body of Kinch just as the guard did, screaming from the fellow prisoners around us…Klink staring on in horror. Everything was happening so fast. I got up and ran as fast as I could from the ground up, pushing LeBeau and Carter aside, to save the man who has befriended me and has kept everyone in touch with reality, one who has been a true friend. But even if I could save him, those four shots, two to his heart and the other to his head, would have disabled him for life.

The Shadow had aimed well. I had tried everything I could, even Wilson, who was at the cooler beforehand, ran by as quickly as he could and tried to help, he ran as fast as I did I swear, but we wouldn't save Kinch.

Rob had been released by the guard and was already on the ground with us trying to help me and Wilson in saving Kinch, but it was for naught. Rob was the one there when I felt Kinch pass from this world to the next, the one who held me as I held him with bloody hands. The whole camp was in shambles, every man around who heard what happened or saw those shots cried with their hearts. The heartless Kommandant Klink found his backbone, probably because of the Shadow. He ordered the guards to repair this camp and every person in every barrack, upon pain of Death, was confined except for those who escaped and those who have been around to help them escape.

Rob and I were still holding on to each other in shock and we both were crying softly when Schultz came by and tapped us gently on the shoulders, indicating that we were to go to the cooler. Rob and I couldn't even stand up, we were in such distress, and were eventually held up by Schultz, who also led all six of us prisoners – me, Rob, LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Wilson – to the cooler. Wilson was given the same sentence as we did for evading punishment, but just got by with us because he was doing his work: trying to humanely save one of our own and failing as I did. Rob, Carter and I were put in the same cell, as Klink wasn't afraid to ground two colonels at the same time in the same cell with a chaperone. Wilson, Newkirk and LeBeau were in the one next to us.

I couldn't stop crying, Rob couldn't stop his guilt trip and nobody, not even Klink and Schultz, will forget that night, the horrible night Kinch was murdered in cold blood for standing up to what he believed in, and saving my sorry ass. He was the first to go in cold blood. He was the first of Klink's prisoners to actually escape.

I cannot write anymore…it is my entire fault that Kinch died. I couldn't save him from the Shadow…I was the one…the one…who brought him here…


	16. Rest in Peace

**July 7  
****The Barracks – 0900 Hours**

It has been almost a month since I've written.

Rob, Wilson, LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and I were released early from our punishment yesterday evening, about 2300 hours, because we've been good and quiet. Klink has been lenient, since Kinch died, and has also given back privileges to the men after the Shadow left two days ago. I think Schultz has also been reporting to him that all six of us have been silent, sleeping, crying or rolling over with guilt. And so, Klink let us go late last night and even let us stay up all night with the lights on if we wanted to. He even allowed us six to have a warm shower and for the men to have a shave because they haven't met their faces to a razor in about a month.

I can't remember everything. I knew that they had all let me shower first, because of what I've been through with Wilson. All I could feel was cold, a freezing shower, to wash away the nightmare that plagued us. My hands were still encrusted with Kinch's dried blood, because of my stubbornness to keep them on, and it was all I wanted afterward. It's a cold world, an unforgiving world that took Kinch away.

I wanted to stay this way and never feel warmth again. I was so guilt-ridden. I still am in much shame and am still crying my eyes out. I hadn't slept in the month we were in the cooler because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kinch's dead body and I relived the nightmare again. I paced the cell we stayed in for the time and tried to write again after I wrote of that horrible darkness, but my heart is too heavy and I ripped out every page, throwing it out the window. I feel as if everything turned to stone. There is nothing more to say after that night other than deep regret.

Everyone has been crying and giving more care to others' feelings, I've noticed. I know that Rob is suffering too. He was Kinch's commanding officer and now this death in his hands. He was responsible for every man, and now, one is not coming back home with us, if there is such a thing anymore.

A memorial service, organized by Rob, is tomorrow.

**July 9  
****The Colonel's Quarters – 0225 Hours**

The memorial service is over, thank G-d. Kinch's body has been already buried in a shallow mass grave outside the camp on orders of Kommandant Klink a month ago, where so many men and women have been buried because of execution and common disease. So our service was held near the fence which faces his grave.

Schultz and the other guards were watching us closely, as if they knew some escape plan was going to be cracked, but there wasn't. There were only a few kind words spoken by many men who knew Kinch, Rob's crew of three (I hate to think of it as such) said a few words and Rob tearfully, almost out of character for him, had the whole camp salute this brave man. Subsequently, after a moment of saluting and our respects were paid, Rob asked that we stay a few minutes. Then, he motioned me up from the back of the crowd, where I stood in silent terror. This was something I was hoping to avoid, but I had to do it.

Klink was kind enough to get me a guitar before I left the cooler so I can play something nice for the service and I played a few songs I loved and knew. I only played five before breaking down. I was going to play seven. The ones I played were pieces that I had written in all of the years I've been in the military, songs that I've held deep within my heart. And now, they were to be remembered as those I sang at Kinch's memorial service.

There was no end to the sadness. Everyone loved Kinch. _I_ loved Kinch as a brother. He was always there for me and made me laugh in every hollow act he, I or anyone else did and I will continue this even after his sudden demise. I, as everyone else, have to move on with life, but every feeling has been pushed aside. Every little hope and dream we've had about getting out of here alive seemed to be destroyed in that one day, save but yesterday. Even yesterday…it gave them all a wish to get out of Stalag 13.

The little show I put on seemed to be like a blur. The last song I played before I became lost to my emotions was "Samson", Father's favorite song of downfall. This was because I knew it was the unobtrusive men of this war who have escaped notice. Kinch has been, indeed, more than just a hero and a friend: he was _the_ unsung. I started humming randomly and then whistling "Unsung Heroes" loudly, and before long, the whole camp joined in, minus the guards and Klink of course, and I started the soulful tune of sadness, forgetfulness and love.

In turn, as I finished this song, I lost it and couldn't play another song. Rob was too overwhelmed by this loss that he just dismissed the men after another, last moment of silence and respect.

Then, quickly afterward with the guitar strapped to my back, the both of us linked our arms in sadness, another day in which we had to deal with the extreme remorse. But the men, who were dismissed, didn't move. Afterward, out of nowhere, I heard someone's voice. "Salute, colonels!"

The both of us – Rob and I both – stopped in our tracks and turned around, seeing the respect these men still had in us, and the faith they had that they will get out of this hell alive. They all saluted us, even though those who never liked us in the first place. I was overwhelmed.

After this I cannot remember what happened or where I went after Rob led me back to the barracks. Everything and everybody was just a shadow and a piece of the darkness I was hoping to avoid. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the dead and bloody body of Kinch again and again and knew I would never sleep peacefully ever again.


	17. An Interesting Birthday

**July 16  
****Outside Klink's Office – 1450 Hours**

Today is my thirty-first birthday, and lucky for me, nobody (and I am glad for this) has decided not to celebrate it for me. Not to be mistaken…this should be a happy day and the men should have a break from all of this nonsense. I feel, though, as if celebrating while Kinch is in his early grave is like an insult for those who sacrificed themselves for their countries, no matter what _side_ they're on.

I did, on the other hand, receive some letters today and a package a few days ago, the latter I can explain later. The letters came from my nephew Jozef, who is in a P.O.W. camp in England, who writes to me in German. The other three were from Father's friends, Paul, Nicholas and Alexander. All were censured, of course, including the three I had received from Russia (in Russian of course). The Krauts must have gotten someone who knew the language well and had them censure it along the way, for every other sentence is almost blacked out. I have already found it useless to complain to Klink, so I never bother unless Rob sees it and gets upset that _I'm_ upset over it and then complains. I mean, every letter he gets from home is in almost as worse shape as mine are. In other words, why quiver?

You know, I almost forgot about Kinch when going into the other businesses I have around here, like the letters being censured. I am just worried I might forget him altogether, but I am not so sure about it. I can still picture him laughing, smiling and even joking, putting a coin in his eye and mocking Kinch in that fake German accent…and then I see his dead body. The hurt is still there and will always be no matter if I forget him or not. Maybe I can forget the horrific way he died, but never the feelings.

For the past week, everything has been coming back together and the camp routines are back to normal again. The men are back to their usual, selfish selves and Rob has been searching for someone, _anyone_, who can man the radio. After the memorial service, he spent hours talking to men in the other barracks and asking around. Who has the same skills Kinch has in working the radio and sending messages to London, plus the skill to use the switchboard and intercept calls from Klink's office? I only knew how to use the radio to send messages and Newkirk knew the switchboards and phone tapping well.

Then, Rob and I worked out something: I started receiving messages in the day and at night and all of the men chipped in and took shifts. I was the one, however, who sent the message that we were one man down and asked to have London send the message to his family. Rob already had that note out to his family, finally placing Kinch's final letter in the mail going out. I was not happy in sending this message, but I knew that Kinch's family had a right to know, much as Nancy's did.

After I sent that message about Kinch to London, though, I received something back. There was a memorandum that was sent to us. London said we did a job well done on the oil refinery and that we saved our boys' lives by doing so. They also asked for the pictures LeBeau took (I had forgotten that they were dropped off in Hammelburg last month, while we were in the cooler and wondered why they weren't sent to London yet) as soon as Rhiannon can package them and send them on their way. All we had to do was remind him.

There can be no shine in this victory this time. I find nothing good about it this time.

I'm still not sleeping either. I have nightmare after nightmare and there is no escape from it. At these nights I read a lot and this explains the package. A few days ago, I received (finally) a package from Father, delivered to me by a sadden Schultz, who was on guard duty all night as punishment from Klink for some reason. Father sent me a book in German, of course, about the history of France. It was dated 1922, so it went to World War I and the defeat of the then German Empire, before the occupation of France only four years ago.

When I got the damned package though, the news went quickly around the camp and suddenly, I had groups of men, LeBeau leading them (_especially_ LeBeau!), asking if I could read it to them in English by translating the original German text. I had already put the book in storage in my footlocker, tiptoeing into the Colonel's quarters as Rob was sleeping. I was intent on reading it that night, so I was surprised that scores of men were asking me to entertain them. I mean it, the whole barracks, and it was only mere days after the memorial service and they _asked_ me to translate it and read it to them. I could tell that they were bored. I also knew everyone was still upset, so I said, "Yes, but only a few paragraphs a night." I knew I was going to hurt my eyes in doing so because of my lack of sleep, but it was going to be worth it to make a few men happy.

LeBeau was so jubilant that he kissed me on both checks and started celebrating, yelling in French, and the other men looked to me with such admiration again and even joined in the celebration party. I was trying to quiet them, with real reason because we were in the barracks, but it was to no avail. Rob, who was napping in his quarters, angrily came out and was asking what the hell we were doing, disobeying orders and making too much noise? I knew that Rob's temper can come out horribly when he's disturbed, especially if he was sleeping beforehand, so the room quieted down. All the men suddenly looked to me again and I knew they wanted me to quiet down his temper, so I took Rob by the arm and led him back to his quarters and shut the door. Then, we just argued a bit. We stood next to the bunks and I started.

First, I apologized to Rob because it was my fault that the men found out about what I had received in the mail and started going rowdy when the order was to be QUIET while he was sleeping. I continued with, "Listen, Rob, I know that everything has been tense lately, but the men found out I had a German book and wanted me to read it to them. I know they were too loud when I said yes. It's my entire fault and I'm sorry." I said this way too fast and I knew that I was in for an argument about what's been going on here.

Rob wasn't too happy, still. "Dammit, Nikki, it's not the men, it's _you_! Why haven't you been taking care of yourself? You haven't been sleeping for a month, you've been avoiding everybody. Then, you try to cheer up the men with a package you have. Why don't you talk to me?"

Right then and there, I knew that Rob had been watching me more carefully then I thought he was. I knew what he was talking about: because I wasn't sleeping, my eyes grew more tired and red. This meant when I go on the next mission, I could mistake anything for our side and get caught by the Krauts. My depression could get on his nerves, I knew, and when I did slide down lower than his does, then it becomes pathetic. I am helpless in this and he knew that too. He even knew how angry I was that I brought the Shadow along to Stalag 13 for if I didn't then Kinch would be alive today. I could have endangered the operation and we were almost found out anyhow had the Shadow not been satisfied that no espionage activity was conducted as we were in the cooler and no tunnels had been found on his orders. Only the men staying intently in the barracks and no activities outside the camp ensured him that we were normal prisoners of war.

I defended myself rapidly as I always did. I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. "Rob, this isn't your business to tell me what to do with my life! You can't help how I feel and what I do, and you can't, most certainly, control my life!"

"I can. I am the commanding officer here!" Rob yelled back at me, and I knew I lost this battle. I lost my composure by his blunt reply and backed into my bunk, collapsing into it. I lost my breath in utter shock. I closed my eyes to stop the flow of tears, but all I saw was Kinch's dead body and as soon as I opened them, I felt a waterfall come down my cheeks.

Rob, I saw through my blurry vision, wasn't as angry as I thought he was. No, he was more hurt and in self-reproach than ever and was trying to keep it in like I was, but he too lost it. He came to sit next to me and we held on to each other, crying.

We rocked back and forth, trying to calm down, and I even tried singing a song, but broke down quickly. I couldn't even sing the last lines because it suddenly brought back memories of Kinch and how, when I got here at Stalag 13, he made me welcome, tried not to make me misplaced and made a friend out of me. I cried harder and Rob held onto me tighter than before. We were all suffering thus; we were the people who were to watch the men, they volunteered for these dangerous assignments and now, someone was finally dead. The balance was perfect again. The Krauts killed one of ours and we destroyed their last-ditch war effort. We all knew that once, we'd lose a man or two, but never will we feel this bad about this. I could have had this avoided and Rob, as commander, will feel this as long as he lives.

It was a while before the two of us calmed down. I heard Rob sigh. I could tell that it was time to let go, and I did. When Rob finally let go of me entirely, and finally my hands which he has always held onto until the last possible moment, I looked at him in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry. It's just that…every time I close my eyes, I see him dead. And it's horrible, those nightmares…"

"You're not the only one," Rob replied curtly before getting up.

Then, we heard a knock on the door. Rob was startled by this, but before he could say a word of welcome, the door opened and in came Newkirk. "Sorry, Sir," he said, "but there's a new prisoner and he's headin' to the cooler, by the looks of it."

_Why would a new prisoner be sent to the cooler that quickly?_ I thought as Rob quickly put on his jacket, wiped his face to avoid questions of why it was wet and straightened his hair before putting his hat on. "I'll be there in a minute," Rob said as he rushed Newkirk out the door and close it behind him. Just as soon as he was sure that Newkirk was out of the way, Rob turned back to me and surprisingly kissed me on the mouth. I returned it, but just as quick he did it, he moved back and said as he opened the door and headed out, "See you later." I smiled and tipped my askew cap to him in some sort of respect.

So, for the past few days, Rob has been arguing with Klink about a new prisoner's rights when he comes into camp, Geneva Convention stuff I never remember (except for name, rank and serial number, of course). That's why I'm sitting out here and waiting for him to come out, and hopefully, we've gained another prisoner.

Rob has been fighting for this prisoner's freedoms at camp and I'm worried that the Iron Eagle has finally got the resilience to fight back. From I'm hearing through the window, it's a stalemate. Klink counters Rob with rules of the camp and Rob comes back with Geneva Convention things (I think he was making up a few just to strengthen his argument) and even once, I heard him rip pages from his book of rules and recite to Klink and something crunching, as if the page was punctured into something sharp. You can never tell if they're mortal enemies until you've seen them at each other's throats arguing bitterly. I know at heart thought that Klink likes Rob (much more than he lets on) and Rob just likes playing around with Klink's mind. And I thought me and Rob arguing was bad enough!

Oops, Rob had just come out, and with our new prisoner! Yes! I'm too excited. He won the battle. This is the _best_ birthday present I could ever have! The new prisoner, African-American, tall and with a sergeant's strips on top of his light brown sweater, smiled as he rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had been. Rob turned to face him, and then me, and was even grinning wider. Not since Kinch's death has he given me such happiness in a situation he's won against Klink.

Rob says, introducing me to our new prisoner, "Colonel Michalovich, may I introduce our new prisoner, right-hand man and radio specialist, Sergeant Richard Baker?"

* * *

**Afterward:**** I'd like to thank all of you again for reading these stories. I really appreciate it. This story was about one of the most historical ones I've written so far, usually real characters from the Nazi regime.**

**There was really a character in World War II named Arthur Liebehenschel. The real Liebehenschel, however, did not go on tours of the Stalags and go off and kill prisoners, like I portrayed him in the story, obviously. He was really the camp kommandant of the Auschwitz and Majdanek concentration camps. He was born in 1901 in Posen, Germany and studied economics and business administration. Before his posts at the camps, he was a sergeant during the First World War and had joined the Nazi Party in 1934. During the Second World War, he held many administrative posts circling around the death camps.**

**Liebehenschel took over Auschwitz on November 10, 1943, succeeding ****Rudolf Höss****, the original kommandant, and then was awarded command of Majdanek May 19, 1944 while commanding the other camp. When it was clear that the Allies were going to win the war, however, he had the camp evacuated and then was given a senior post as head of the S.S. Manpower Division. After the war, Liebehenschel was arrested by the American army and was detained in** **Kraków, Poland, given a trial and executed on January 24, 1948.**

**However gross this character was, I thought that this story gave an almost-accurate (and fictitious of Liebehenschel of course, in the sense that he never visited the camps around Germany and shot prisoners there, etc.) display of behavior men of war act out, no matter what side of the coin you're on. This has been a tough story to write down, but I thought it was an appropriate transition from one radioman to another.**


End file.
